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I had to wear my idiot shorts in front of a field of footballers, tip coke over my head and pie myself.
Ten year work anniversary!
I have been writing this blog since the week before our wedding in August 2008. Then on to changing jobs, a stint in the arsehole of the world, Kazakhstan, losing that job, then the trials and tribulations of a getting permanent job.
I worked at the box factory for best part of five months, working with Jools' sister as my boss.
Then came the fallow times, going to the job centre to sign on, the humiliation of explaining on a weekly basis how I had looked for work so I would receive the next back of fifty quid a week.
And then-on day, I saw an add for a job that combined quality, engineering and documentation. I went through the list of requirements and I knew then if ever a job was made for me, then this was it.
I applied, got an interview, did OK, and was told to wait a week for news.
Two hours later they called back, I had the job if I wanted.
I did.
A temporary job turned permanent, and then the company went through tough times, we had to justify our existence on a daily basis.
But, in time, fortunes turned, we got new projects, we ramped up the department going from me and my boss, Philip, to last count over a hundred. Probably lots more.
I got a new job, did poorly, did well. Travelled, then, last year, it all went Pete Tong. But, I heard about my current position, applied and got it.
So here I am, celebrating only the second job I have lasted a decade in. The other was in the RAF. So, not done bad.
In these ten years I have met and worked with many fabulous people, many going on to be my friends.
And there are others. Well, we all light up a room with our personalities, some when we walk in, some when we walk out. I hope they see me as the latter.
In normal times I would be going to Denmark on Monday for a celebration with my colleagues. A day workshop extended into an evening event at some nice restaurant or another. But not now, not in this reality. Normal might come later.
Instead we are virtually housebond, locked down tight, only allowed out once a day for exercise and other times for shopping. Or it depends on how you read the guidance. Anyway, how to celebrate the day?
By going on an orchid hunt, of course.
What else?
It was to be a bright but breezy day, but near to sunrise the wind would drop some, so no time to lose. We get up, have a coffee and then Jools drops me off at the NT place on the cliffs, though it is all locked up with as many warning signs as those on the Falklands warning about mines. And the entrance is monitored.
So be warned.
I was.
Jools speeds away, leaving me to gather my thoughts and clamber down to see if the remote colonies of Early Spiders had returned.
Overlooking the port I found two rosettes, including one with a spike that was just about to open. Nearly, but not quite.
I walk on, scanning left and right until I see what I was looking for: a small yellowing rosette with a spike, and on the top was a single open flower.
Orchid goodness.
Around were two more, one open, the other not. I get shots.
Further along I find two more, then as I scramble down the cliff, another plant, this one the most glorious deep maroon colours, all covered in dew that make it look like it was coated in diamonds.
I take a lot of shots.
Before the cliff road turns inland, I find two more spikes, I snap those too, but was happy enough I had found more than enough, for now, so that the rest of the walk would be for exercise and general botany and photography.
I walk up the cliff road, the bed on an inclined plane railway that was constructed to help build the new eastern harbour arm, cutting a shelf into the face of the famous cliffs for only a few years use. And has been abandoned for 110 years or so, but the ten metre wide shelf, trackbed or road has been there ever since, and is a fairly gentle slope on which I could try to limit the strain on my back.
I went this way to check out different habitats in the hope of spotting something new, but really see very little of interest, and my back was making a big deal about how much it ached. I was passed just before the gate at the top by a jogger, the first person I had seen since Jools had dropped me off. Strange times indeed.
I make it to the top, and see Jools approaching. She had parked the car in the village and came to meet me on my walk, then we would walk back to the car together before driving down the hill to home.
Instead of walking along the cliffs, we took the wartime road set back a bit, which runs from the top of Langdon Hole to South Foreland lighthouse.
We see little of interest, as the road has been resurfaced since last year, and the swathes of Scarlet Pimpernel were nowhere to be seen.
A few joggers passed us with a safe distance between us, we walked back towards home, past the lighthouse, then through the scrub woodland to the path that crosses the last big field before we enter the village.
Then, across Reach Road, to the car park and into the car.
All by five past nine in the morning.
Sunday, 25 1942 The Night A Marine Legend Was Born
Guadalcanal was a fierce clash of national wills. Bloodied and humiliated by the sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, American armed forces were on the comeback trail less than six months after the debacle. At Guadalcanal, a disease infested island, two superb military organizations met each other for the first time in land combat -- bayonet to bayonet -- in a contest only one army could win.
The United States Marine's were determined to keep their small foothold of Henderson Field and the Japanese were equally determined to drive them into the sea. During the protracted battle which lasted for six months, the struggle to "own" Henderson Field came to a bloody climax on Sunday night 25, October, 1942.
At Lunga Ridge -- about 1,000 yards south of Henderson Field it was raining torrents, creating miserable, bottomless mud -- typical Guadalcanal weather. The Marines manning the main line of defense were exhausted. For two days Japanese human wave assaults had been flung against them. Each time the charging enemy had been driven off -- but the weary Marines knew their tough adversaries weren't through. The Japanese would gather reinforcements and return.
About midnight, from the gloom of ink-black darkness cam hundreds of screaming Japanese troops. Throwing themselves on the flesh-cutting barbed wire, the first of the waves formed human bridges for their comrades to leap across. One of the Marine section leaders facing them was Sergeant "Manila John" Basilone. An experienced machine gunner, Basilone knew his guns would be tested to their mechanical limits. It would be up to him to keep them firing.
During the attack when grenades, small arms and machine guns were ripping the night and exploding human flesh splattered friend and foe, Sergeant Basilone stayed with his malaria-ridden men. Repeatedly repairing guns and changing barrels in almost total darkness, he ran for ammo or steadied his terrified men who were firing full trigger to keep a sheet of white-hot lead pouring into the ranks of the charging Japanese.
Bodies piled so high in front of his weapons pits they had to be reset so the barrels could fire over the piles of corpses. Not even the famous water-cooled heavy machine guns could stop all the assaults and one section of guns were overrun. Two men killed, three others wounded.
Basilone took one of his guns on his back and raced for the breach in the line. Eight Japanese were surprised and killed. The guns were jammed by mud and water and a few yards away the Japanese were forming for another charge. Frantically stripping mud from the ammo belts men fed them into the guns as Basilone cleared jams and sprayed the fiendish troops rushing at his positions with razor sharp bayonets and hands full of grenades.
Sometime after 0200 the firing died down. No one relaxed. At 0300 the final remnants of the Sendai Regiments with their officers prepared themselves for a final Banzai charge. The full weight of the fanatical Japanese seemed to fall on Basilone's men. But he had set up a cross fire which smashed the charge. Dropping to the mud, still screaming Colonel Sendai's remnants crawled forward trying to reach their tormentors. Depressing the muzzles of his weapons -- Basilone destroyed them. Nash Phillips lost a hand fighting next to his Sergeant. He was surprised to see John Basilone appear next to his bed a little while after dawn. "He was barefooted and his eyes were red as fire. His face was dirty black from gunfire and lack of sleep. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders. He had a .45 tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He'd just dropped by to see how I was making out; me and the others in the section. I'll never forget him. He'll never be dead in my mind!"
With dawn the battlefield was strewn with dead and wounded Americans and Japanese -- but Henderson Field still belonged to the Americans and its ownership would never be seriously challenged again. At least 38 dead Japanese were credited to Sergeant Basilone -- many were killed with his Colt .45 at almost arms length. Just 26 years old, Manila John Basilone had entered the ranks of the Marine Corps pantheon of heroes -- and shortly America would take the big, handsome Marine with jug ears and a smile like a neon sign to their hearts. The legend of a "Fighting Sergeant" was born.
When the battle was over and his squad members interviewed, Sergeant Basilone was credited by his men for his will to fight and ability to inspire them in a night of cold fear none ever forgot.
Within a short time the Japanese evacuated Guadalcanal and prepared to meet other Marine invasions of their strongholds elsewhere in the Pacific. American fighting men had proven they could beat the best of the best, the most experienced troops Japan could throw at them. After Guadalcanal the Japanese high command had a fresh respect for the Marines. They would be forced to meet time and time again as America pressed across the Pacific toward their homeland.
When he received the nation's highest decoration, John Basilone replied modestly, "Only part of this medal belongs to me. Pieces of it belong to the boys who are still on Guadalcanal. It was rough as hell down there." On the 1943 War Bond Tour Sergeant Basilone was to say, "Doing a 'stateside tour is tougher than fighting Japs."
When Gunnery Sergeant John Basilone voluntarily returned to the Pacific war it would be on the sands of Iwo Jima 19, February, 1945. At the head of another machine gun squad, he would drive hundreds of frightened raw troops off the beaches toward their assigned objectives. Iwo would be his toughest fight. Barely on the island two hours, he was killed leading his men.
Gunnery Sergeant Manila John Basilone was the only Marine in WWII to receive both the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross.
"Masochism Junichiro Tanizaki novel collection". Author: Junichiro Tanizaki
In the play to escalate, will wake up to the pleasure of boys and girls is forbidden "boy". Draw a man to feel volupte that is to fool a woman, it is humiliation "flatterer". Set in Yokohama during the Great Kanto Earthquake. Such as "hair of the bunch and one" man of three people flock to the Russians a woman, go and fell Moteasobare. Throughout the ages 6 Hen masterpiece of masochism novel is at the heart The colorful, Tanizaki literature. What if I know this world, you can not return to their original.
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
A train trip for 3.5 hours, dressed like you see. A nice public humiliation. Had to keep the top shirt buttoned to hide the locked collar shirt with the "slave" labels on
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
Eight years ago, in Sharjah, Sanath Jayasuriya scored a magnificent 189 before Sri Lanka's bowlers sent India tumbling to 54 all out, and a humiliating 245-run defeat. At Karachi's National Stadium, Jayasuriya, now 39, smashed another superb century before Ajantha Mendis, the mystery spinner still classed as a slow-medium bowler, bamboozled a highly rated batting line-up to finish with astonishing figures of 6 for 13.
Virender Sehwag's blistering early onslaught was rendered irrelevant as Sri Lanka stormed to a 100-run victory, retaining the Asia Cup and extending India's miserable record in tournament finals.
With Sehwag hammering an exhilarating 60 from just 35 balls, India had romped to 76 from just nine overs. Muttiah Muralitharan prefers not to bowl during the Powerplays, and it was to Mendis, who the Indians had never faced before, that Mahela Jayawardene turned as he sought to staunch the flow of runs.
Even he couldn't have predicted the impact that Mendis would have. Like a combine harvester scything through a field of corn, Mendis sliced through a line-up that has quite a reputation when it comes to playing spin. Sehwag charged his second delivery and watched helplessly as it drifted away from him. Kumar Sangakkara did the rest. Two balls later, Yuvraj Singh was utterly befuddled by one that skidded on. Suddenly, 274 appeared a long way away.
That Sri Lanka got anywhere near that was down to a man who refuses to bow to Father Time. India picked up four wickets in the first 12 overs, with Ishant claiming three of them, but Jayasuriya's 114-ball 125, and a 131-run partnership with Tillakaratne Dilshan utterly changed the complexion of the game.
It's perhaps no coincidence that India haven't won the Asia Cup since Jayasuriya became a regular at the top of the Sri Lankan order, and his mastery over the opposition was best revealed in the 16th over, bowled by RP Singh. RP had managed to escape relatively unscathed in his opening spell, conceding 24 from five overs, but when he returned, Jayasuriya took to him like a bull that had been riled by the matador's cape.
Sixes on either side of the sightscreen were followed by two wallops over cover, and after a one-ball lull, he pulled one over midwicket for six more. With Dilshan then taking three successive fours off Irfan Pathan, Mahendra Singh Dhoni had no option but to turn to spin, with Pragyan Ojha and Sehwag managing to have something of a fire-extinguishing effect.
India had started poorly, with RP conceding two boundaries to fine leg in the opening over, but a mix-up between two experienced hands gave them the opening they so desperately needed. Jayasuriya tapped one to short mid-off, and Sangakkara had already hared halfway down the pitch before he realised the striker had no interest in a single. Suresh Raina's underarm flick was the ultimate punishment.
But with two maiden overs bowled in the first five, India wrested back a measure of control, despite Jayasuriya's sporadic bursts of aggression. With the pressure building, it was Ishant who struck, as Jayawardene slapped one straight to Rohit at point. No bother for Jayasuriya though. A swivel pull sent an Ishant delivery for six, and Pathan's introduction was greeted with three fours in the over.
The problem was at the other end, where Ishant was wreaking havoc with the extra bounce he extracted from a comatose pitch. Bounce and a hint of lateral movement had Chamara Kapugedera playing one off the leading edge to point, and two balls later, the other Chamara - Silva - inside-edged one back on to the stumps.
Jayasuriya's version of consolidation involved a pull for six off Ishant and a slice of luck as a as a miscue off Pathan evaded RP, who ran around in circles and failed to get his hands to the ball. Dilshan contributed only four to the first 50 the pair added, from 30 balls, but he did his part, turning the strike over to allow Jayasuriya to inflict maximum damage.
With Sehwag and Ojha - Rohit contributed three tidy overs too - taking the pace off the ball, it was a different story. With the field spread, the boundaries dried up and the runs came mainly in singles. India missed a couple of run-out opportunities and Dhoni put down a sharp chance offered by Dilshan when he was on 37, but the helter-skelter pace of the Powerplay overs soon gave way to relative calm.
Eventually, the lack of action got to Jayasuriya and a flat slog-sweep off Sehwag only found Ishant at deep midwicket. After that, Sri Lanka lost their way. Dilshan eased to 50 from 68 balls, but when Pathan returned to bowl round the wicket, he popped a catch to Dhoni. Vaas, back in the fray after missing the last game, square-drove Ishant for the first four in more than 20 overs, but was castled by RP soon after.
Nuwan Kulasekara flailed the bat to finish with an unbeaten 29, but a target of 274 was expected to be well within reach for an Indian side that had included seven specialist batsmen. But after his extraordinary first over, Mendis soon set about making a mockery of the predictions.
Raina had been fortunate to survive a vociferous leg-before shout before he decided to play the worst shot of the evening, an ugly pull to a delivery that pitched on middle stump. Rohit soon followed, struck on the back pad by one that deviated away a touch, and by the time Jayawardene decided to take him out of the attack, Mendis had stunning figures of 4 for 8.
No one including the umpires knew quite what to expect, and the batsmen appeared unsure whether to play him as a slow bowler or a medium-pace one. That indecision was to prove fatal, especially against the carrom ball that was being propelled by a flick of the middle finger. As eye-catching was his accuracy. There was no width for the batsmen to work with, and hardly a loose delivery. Only Dhoni, who played the ball as late as he possibly could, showed any signs of coming to grips with him.
With Mendis casting such a spell, Murali's introduction went almost unnoticed, but with him in parsimonious mood, the tourniquet was tightening around India. Robin Uthappa and Dhoni added 38 in attritional fashion before Murali struck from round the wicket. Uthappa missed a flick, and the appeal from the bowler was just a formality.
Jayawardene waited a while longer and then brought back Mendis for the 30th over. India somehow survived that, but the game was up in his next. Pathan's attempt to flick through the leg side ended up at slip, and RP walked off bemused after one deviated away to take off stump. He should have had the hat-trick too, only Simon Taufel was as perplexed by a ball that pitched in line as Ojha was.
Dhoni had watched it all from the other end, defending stoutly and striking the odd four when he could. But once he inside-edged Chaminda Vaas to the keeper, the Sri Lankan dressing room readied for the celebrations. When Kulasekara cleaned up Ishant with 63 balls still to be bowled, they could begin in earnest. The combination of the six-hitting veteran and the six-wicket carrom-ball spinner had been far too much for India to handle.
Dileep Premachandran is an associate editor at Cricinfo
© Cricinfo
The "other side” of the American Dream
They were frightened, uncomfortable and humiliated.
Day after day we heard about border lines, immigrants, people who left their house and their families never had news about them, some other are dead.
There are an estimated of 12 million illegal immigrants in the United States. More than half (55 percent) were Mexican and one quarter (25 percent) are American. The remainder (20 percent) are from around the world.
This is the story of a few of them; not the ones that die trying to reach their goal, not the others who live in the States. But the ones that are stocked in the border line, unfortunately the south.
"My dream was to arrive to United States work as hard as I can and come back to my country to be with my daughter" MARIANA, HONDURAS.
Braving a ride on top of the freight trains that head north all across Mexico is the only chance for migrants, from all over Central America… to get close to the "American Dream". They are victims of robbers, police abusing their power, Zetas, kidnap and the government corruption.
Sometimes It is the same machine that they use to reach their dreams, the one that can cut any hope, and also some part of their body.
Their plan to migrate to the States, to work and provide their families, is failed. They face mutilations and injuries but most of the humiliation is because their dream never come true… being on "The Other Side".
more about this proyect at www.okinreport.net
A train trip for 3.5 hours, dressed like you see. A nice public humiliation. Had to keep the top shirt buttoned to hide the locked collar shirt with the "slave" labels on
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
Sati was (is) a social funeral practice among some Indian communities in which a recently widowed woman would immolate herself on her husband’s funeral pyre. The practice was banned several times, with the current ban dating to 1829 by the British.
CURRENT INCIDENCE
Sati still occurs in the rural areas of India, reports extending into the 21st century. Some 30 cases of sati from 1943-1987 in the Rajput/Shekavati region are documented according to a referred statistics, the official number being 28. A well documented case from 1987 was that of 18-year old Roop Kanwar. In response to this incident, additional recent legislation against the practice was passed, first within the state of Rajasthan, then generally, the central government of India.
In 2002, a 65-year-old woman by the name of Kuttu died after sitting on her husband's funeral pyre in the Indian Panna district. On 18 May 2006, Vidyawati, a 35-year old woman allegedly committed sati by jumping into the blazing funeral pyre of her husband in Rari-Bujurg Village, Fatehpur district in the State of Uttar Pradesh. On 21 August 2006, Janakrani, a 40-year-old woman, burned to death on the funeral pyre of her husband Prem Narayan in Sagar district. On 11 October 2008 a 75-year-old woman, Lalmati Verma, committed sati by jumping into her 80-year-old husband's funeral pyre at Checher in the Kasdol block of Chhattisgarh's Raipur district.
ETYMOLOGY
The term is derived from the original name of the goddess Sati, also known as Dakshayani, who self-immolated because she was unable to bear her father Daksha's humiliation of her husband Shiva. The term may also be used to refer to the widow. The term sati is now sometimes interpreted as "chaste woman". Sati appears in both Hindi and Sanskrit texts, where it is synonymous with "good wife"; the term suttee was commonly used by Anglo-Indian English writers.
ORIGN
Few reliable records exist of the practice before the time of the Gupta empire, approximately 400 CE. After about this time, instances of sati began to be marked by inscribed memorial stones. The earliest of these are found in Sagar, Madhya Pradesh, though the largest collections date from several centuries later, and are found in Rajasthan. These stones, called devli, or sati-stones, became shrines to the dead woman, who was treated as an object of reverence and worship. They are most common in western India. A description of suttee appears in a Greek account of the Punjab written in the first century BCE by historian Diodorus Siculus. Brahmins were forbidden from the practice by the Padma Purana. A chapter dated to around the 10th century indicates that, while considered a noble act when committed by a Kshatriya woman, anyone caught assisting an upper-caste Brahmin in self-immolation as a "sati" was guilty of Brahminicide.
The ritual has prehistoric roots, and many parallels from other cultures are known. Compare for example the ship burial of the Rus' described by Ibn Fadlan, where a female slave is burned with her master.
Aristobulus of Cassandreia, a Greek historian who traveled to India with the expedition of Alexander the Great, recorded the practice of sati at the city of Taxila. A later instance of voluntary co-cremation appears in an account of an Indian soldier in the army of Eumenes of Cardia, whose two wives jumped on his funeral pyre, in 316 BC. The Greeks believed that the practice had been instituted to discourage wives from poisoning their old husbands.
Voluntary death at funerals has been described in northern India before the Gupta empire. The original practices were called anumarana, and were uncommon. Anumarana was not comparable to later understandings of sati, since the practices were not restricted to widows – rather, anyone, male or female, with personal loyalty to the deceased could commit suicide at a loved one's funeral. These included the deceased's relatives, servants, followers, or friends. Sometimes these deaths stemmed from vows of loyalty, and bear a slight resemblance to the later tradition of junshi in Japan.
It is theorized that sati, enforced widowhood, and girl marriage were customs that were primarily intended to solve the problem of surplus women and surplus men in a caste and to maintain its endogamy.
Apart from the Indian subcontinent, origins of this practice have been found in many parts of the world; it was followed by the ancient Egyptians, Thracians, Scythians, Scandinavians, Chinese, as well as people of Oceania and Africa.
Sati remained legal in some princely states for a time after it had been abolished in lands under British control. Jaipur banned the practice in 1846. Nepal continued to practice Sati well into the 20th century.
On the Indonesian island of Bali, sati (known as masatya) was practised by the aristocracy as late as 1905, until Dutch colonial rule pushed for its termination.
Following outcries after each instance, the government has passed new measures against the practice, which now effectively make it illegal to be a bystander at an event of sati. The law now makes no distinction between passive observers to the act and active promoters of the event; all are supposed to be held equally guilty. Other measures include efforts to stop the 'glorification' of the dead women. Glorification includes the erection of shrines to the dead, the encouragement of pilgrimages to the site of the pyre, and the derivation of any income from such sites and pilgrims.
Another instance of systematic Sati happened in 1973, when Savitri Soni sacrificed her life with her husband in Kotadi village of Sikar District in Rajasthan. Thousands of people witnessed this incident.
Although many have tried to prevent the act of sati by banning it and reinforcing laws against it, it is still being practiced (on rare occasions) in India under coercion or by voluntary burning, as in the case of Charan Shah: a 55 year-old widow of Manshah who burnt herself on the pyre of her husband in the village of Satpura in Uttar Pradesh on 11 November 1999. Her death on the funeral pyre has provoked much controversy, as there have been questions as to whether she willingly performed the Sati or was coerced. Charan Shah had not professed strong feelings to become a Sati to any of her family members, and no one saw her close to the burning body of her husband before she jumped into the fire. The villagers, including her sons, say that she became a Sati of her own accord and that she was not forced into it. They continue to pay their respects to the house of Charan Shah. It has become a shrine for the villagers, as they strongly believe that one who has become a sati is a deity; she is worshipped and endowed with gifts.
NUMBERS
There are no reliable figures for the numbers who died by sati across the country. A local indication of the numbers is given in the records kept by the Bengal Presidency of the British East India Company. The total figure of known occurrences for the period 1813 to 1828 is 8,135; another source gives a comparable number of 7,941 from 1815 to 1828, thus giving an average of about 507 to 567 documented incidents per year in that period. Raja Ram Mohan Roy estimated that there were ten times as many cases of Sati in Bengal compared to the rest of the country. Bentinck, in his 1829 report, states that 420 occurrences took place in one (unspecified) year in the 'Lower Provinces' of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa, and 44 in the 'Upper Provinces' (the upper Gangetic plain).
(WIKIPEDIA)
I had to wear my idiot shorts in front of a field of footballers, tip coke over my head and pie myself.
I had to wear my idiot shorts in front of a field of footballers, tip coke over my head and pie myself.
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
This sissy ABDL looks humiliated. Do you need to be humiliated by an experienced ABDL Mommy? Check out www.phoneamommy.com or call 888-430-2010 now $1.99/minute 18+only
I had to wear my idiot shorts in front of a field of footballers, tip coke over my head and pie myself.
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
The Somali state has become an object of charity after two decades of political crisis; multiple actors claim that Somalia needs international humanitarian assistance and military intervention due to terrorism, piracy and famine. For over twenty years these pleas led to no progress and the Somali people have seen continuing death and destruction and as a result continue to suffer the consequences. The Somali people feel humiliation despite claims of international generosity towards the Somali people. The United Kingdom has now decided to host a conference on Somalia and Prime Minister, David Cameron said in his speech to the Lord Mayor’s banquet on 14 November 2011, “that Somalia is a failed state that directly threatens British interests. Tourists and aid workers kidnapped, young British minds poisoned by radicalism, mass migration, and vital trade routes disrupted.” This statement does recognize that there is a problem in Somalia that threatens the security interests of the United Kingdom and some argue that this recognition to change the conditions that contribute to the Somalia quandary gives a new purpose and opportunity to resolve this problem. Moreover, others go even further and say that this constitutes an act of generosity. But others characterize the prescription of the London Conference a testament of the Eurocentric neocolonial mentality of the 21st century as the Somalis were never consulted with about the scope, nature and intentions of the Conference. They point to the sketchy non-paper diplomatic details released so far as having colonial intentions. They warn that the London Conference creates the illusion of acting but will not be different than that of the 19th century colonial rule that gave Africa its current political configuration. They propose that real change must come from the society itself by rejecting tribal politics, religious extremism, foreign domination and becoming real actors in pursuing an authentic political change by restoring justice, freedom and unity.
The intention of this paper is to make the London Conference an object of reflection for my beloved Somali brothers and sisters and for those who are truly in solidarity with the Somali nation. In doing so, I want all to reflect on the current conditions of Somalia. In this perspective, the Somali people SHOULD NOT BE TREATED to be mere objects and this is to urge the Somalis to respond to the changes occurring around them and question whether the London Conference is an act of love and generosity or whether it is another grand design with predictable dire consequences . To verify this, we must examine first the current condition of Somalia and contrast it with the proposals of the London Conference, good intentions notwithstanding. In doing so, we will discover the intentions and designs of the London Conference and arrive at objective discovery after thorough examination. Moreover, this paper will project a vision for Somalia in its conclusion that reflects the desire of the Somali people, hoping that the London Conference will make an effort in this direction.
The State of Somalia
Reality in Somalia today is very grave in economic and political terms; there is widespread poverty and sporadic famine crises. The country is in political crisis characterized by multiple foreign actors and visions reflective of personal and political desires that are not anchored with the will of the Somali people.
The TFG has not evolved to a legitimate institution despite international support owing largely to a lack of vision and its lack of responsiveness to societal needs. It is a well known fact that people in Somalia feel safer under Al-Shabab controlled areas as they face greater risks of robbery and rape in areas managed by the TFG/AMISOM authorities.
Targeted killings of reporters and other local leaders are exceptionally high in these areas. Socially, there is awareness among the Somali people that tribal politics (4.5 federalism) and religious sectarianism have failed the nation and overcoming both of these dogmas are urgent priorities for the Somali people. The current Somali leadership have become pawns of these deterministic views and the agenda they push inside and outside Somalia is reflective of the political disconnect and lack of legitimacy these leaders find themselves in Somalia. The 4.5 power-sharing formula and the foolish actions of Al-Shabab do show this divide. However, the 4.5 clan power-sharing formula and its new political dispensation, Federalism, are as oxymoron as crash-landing is in the Somali political landscape. They are designed to reshape Somalia into smaller controllable clan based states. The proponents of the Somali Federalism project are three groups. First group includes neighbouring countries of Somalia; these are Kenya and Ethiopia, which due to their selfish state interests oppose a strong Somali state with robust central authority. In their view, a weak Somali state is antithesis to Somali nationalism that may pursue the restoration of ‘Greater Somalia”, which calls for the unification of the Somali territories in Ethiopia and Kenya with the contemporary Somali Republic. They fear a strong Somali state and pursue policies that maintain the current “weakened state” status of Somalia. The second group entails individual Somalis who are blinded by clan hatred and desperation for power. They believe that the devolution of power benefits them as they will have power to advance clan interests. The third group, the U.S. and the EU is the most dangerous as they fund this project and have a long-term strategic interest in the entire region. In this respect, the U.S.A. and EU are facilitators of the humiliation and suffering of the Somali people as they continue to empower Kenya and Ethiopia to engage in the destabilization of Somalia. In this way, a system of domination is created where the Somali people find themselves powerless and on the periphery. Decisions are made without the Somali people through subservient tribalist “Somali leaders”.
The Kampala Accord and its subsequent Somalia roadmap marginalize the sovereignty of Somalia as its proponents, IGAD and UNPOS dictate to the “Somali leaders” as a result of the mandate of the Accord. The United States attaches greater values to democracy while it is strangely supporting this oppressive roadmap. This contradiction supports the argument that this Accord precisely endorses their agenda in Somalia. As a result of this, the wider Somali public feels humiliated. This disgraceful action will lead to Somali nationalism as history shows and evidenced by the rise of German nationalism after WWI. It is already taking shape around this circus of “Somali Conferences”. How long can the Somali people continue to live in this oppressive reality and remain impotent?
The London Conference
As announced last November, 2011 by the U.K. government, “over 40 countries and multilateral organizations will come together in London with the aim of delivering a new international approach to Somalia”. From this view, it is evident that there is a recognition that there is an opportunity to build an international consensus to “tackle both the root causes and effects of the problems” in Somalia. The British government is convinced that Somalia represents a security risk, not only to Britain but to the International Community as evidenced by the growing radicalization and piracy in Somalia. London views Al-Shabab, a group listed as a terrorist group, as representing a growing security concern due to a large Somali community presence in England. Similar concern is shared by other countries such as Canada, U.S.A, and others in Europe and Africa. Similarly, the growing threat of piracy in Somalia impacts many more nations around the world. Moreover, recurring famine and other humanitarian needs in Somalia represent no less important challenges. These factors are additionally complicated by the weak institutions and complex political environment in Somalia. Currently there is a Somali peace process that has its contradictions. The new roadmap calls for ending the transitional political arrangement and the recently concluded Garoweh meeting which was scheduled to formally do so has produced another four years of transitional period and institutions. The announcement of the London Conference comes in the midst of this confusion.
Recently released documents show an intense consultation and communication from U.K. government with other relevant countries, individuals and groups. These papers show the political mindset of the United States, United Kingdom, Sweden, and the United Nations Political Office for Somalia, Italy, Kenya, Ethiopia, some Muslim and Arab countries and the Transitional Government of Somalia and other Somali regional stakeholders. Remarkably, these consultations show that the Somalis were not consulted with prior to the announcement. This shows that the intention of this conference is not to empower the Somali people to make a collective decision that the world can support, because if that was the case the logical approach would have been to consult with the affected people, that is to say initiate a consultative phase with the people of Somalia before embarking and announcing the London conference. It is absurd not to realize that though Somalia is shattered they still have the capacity to understand and be resilient and often international actors who lack the knowledge of local terrain discount such positive aspect of local knowledge by imposing their will and Western values as reflected in this upcoming London conference. Moreover, the proposal from Italy bizarrely advances a neocolonial agenda that puts Somalia under trusteeship. This is an affront that outraged the Somali people inside and outside the country. It similarly shows why the Somali people do not and should not trust any foreign intervention. Wholesale euphemisms such as “piracy threats”, “terrorism”, “and humanitarian intervention” are used to malign and discredit, with the intention to erode the self-determination and sovereignty of the Somali people. The Somali people are deprived of their voice and unjustly dealt with over the years by the U.S. and its European allies of France, Italy and England by continually supporting the destabilization of Somalia by Kenya and Ethiopia. For these states to affirm the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Somalia over and over again in their communications and support the continuing invasions of Ethiopia and Kenya is an extreme contradiction. Can the London Conference be in solidarity with the Somali people who are yearning to address their political, social and economic problems and at the same time continue to support the war crimes continually committed by Ethiopia and recently joined by Kenya? The Eurocentric approach that is expounded in the popular press with slogans such as “the Somali people cannot handle democracy and civilized constitutionalism” as one recent “Somalia expert” purports in her latest book, Somalia: “Getting Somalia Wrong? – Signs of Hope in a Shattered State – a Realistic but Empathetic Analysis.” must be totally rejected and discredited. Edward Said must be rolling over in his grave every time a European scholar with his/her Eurocentric biases and through field observation writes as an expert on cultures of other people.
The Somali people have been traditionally making collective decisions in their communities for centuries. Similarly, Democracy is a rational or idealistic concept which endorses the idea of collective decision making freely in areas of mutual interest such as law and order, quality of life, culture and distribution of wealth. Given that democratic decision making is not an alien concept to the Somali people, why is it that irrational discriminatory political dispensation such as 4.5 power-sharing clan formula is advanced in Somalia with the financial support of the international community?
Conclusions
The aim of the London Conference is to “pull together international effort” in order to make sure that the current international effort in Somalia and the Somalia peace process succeed according to the U.K. government. This Conference has surely spurred the interest of the Somali people. Many hope that this Conference may offer a new direction and bring an end of two decades of failed international policy. Others are skeptical and are worried that the U.K. is not driven by generosity and has its own selfish agenda. However, the Somali people are better positioned this time as there is genuine will to transcend the tribal politics that has undermined the State sovereignty and the unity among the people for the past two decades. The London Conference should capitalize this goodwill and move to:
* Provide guiding principles, or terms of reference to make this conference more transparent, so far as the Somalis are concerned, they are suspicious of this conference due to its secrecy and lack of transparency.
* Have a clear detailed consultation framework at the outset; the fact that this conference will address agendas set by outsider with no clear framework will only complicate its outcome.
* Provide clarity of what an end result would look like. The government of UK can only facilitate but let Somalis decide the best approach to address the Somali conundrum. Somalis and other participants of conference have common objectives to address security, terrorism and piracy; it is in the best interest of all to address a common problem collectively.
* Make the Conference a two round process to develop ideas and refine them; let this be a brainstorming exercise and set up another conference inside Somalia. It is illogical to be holding conferences outside of Somalia while addressing security problems pertaining to Somalia. A serious action plan to address piracy and terrorism needs to be inside Somalia and supported by the Somali people inside the country.
And finally any outcome must make sure that Somalia’s sovereignty and territorial integrity is maintained and individual freedom and choice is guaranteed.
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Abdi Dirshe is a political analyst and is also the current President of the Somali Canadian Diaspora Alliance. Contact Abdi at a.dirshe@hotmail.com
Student sleeps through AP Calculus Test. Teachers gives him a failing E, which he is not allowed to make-up or re-do.
*Note* Fellow classmates decided to adorn him with paper balls
A train trip for 3.5 hours, dressed like you see. A nice public humiliation. Had to keep the top shirt buttoned to hide the locked collar shirt with the "slave" labels on
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.
Me. With lips. Lip injections. Kissable lips. Men love my lips.
.
.
.
#footfetish #transmilf #curvy #cougar #transcougar #footmodel #transmodel #SugarBaby #hijrah #transsexual #genderfluid #nailsonfleek #instanails #transgender #transpride #SoccerMom #wife #bride #wifey #secretary #sissy #sissygirl
Nobody knew I masqueraded as a woman and went to bars to pickup men. My girlfriend caught me walking down the street dressed as a woman. There I stood, in little black dress, in front of a busy restaurant, confronted by my girlfriend. I was humiliated as she pointed out my hot pink pedicure and toe ring visible through the black pantyhose I was wearing with my high heeled sandals. She was freaked out how I had deep cleavage and great legs. Ugh.
Why have I been forced to become such a feminine woman. I was a bearded burly man. Now I have been blackmailed and forced to masquerade as a woman. A gay man to heterosexual woman. I wear dresses and high heels. Ugh . I am so swish.
soft girl
bimbo
For a blog I am working on.
When I started this journey I never thought I would loose my past so completely.
I became a woman.
It's important to me to put 100% off my energy into claiming the power of the feminine by adhering to the feminine gender. Now, I state plainly, for the record: I am an airhead, no lie, an attractive unintelligent woman who loves clothes and shoes. I am sooooo on board with my women's subordinate status that it's scary. I am compliant and submissive because that is what my job requires. I am perfectly fine standing in the shadow of a man as long as I look cute and can do my nails.
I am a model. It's a thing. Don't judge.
My coworkers and I do what we can to look and feel our best. The girls helped me see I am a soft girl and being a model brought forward my hotness with a polished new hyper feminine identity. I'm a girl. A girly girl. Like, work only requires a plain mani, but my coworkers decided I should really go above and beyond in my femininity with the coffin nails look and I have had at least 1 1/2 inch fingernails since. So swish and perfect for my girly style. I'm such a follower and don't have to make my own style decisions lately. Why think when you're getting waxed and long pink glittery fingernails attached?
When work made me model exclusively strappy heels or wedges because of my soft and girly feet, the girls took that decision and we extended it to my personal life. I won't go anywhere without wearing pantyhose, short dresses or skirts showcasing my toned feminine legs and sky high heels that show off my foot model pedicure with toe rings and ankle bracelets on display. I've got nice feet.
In my work success is partiay determined by maintaining a romantic relationship with a man, and I found my sexuality can be used to maintain the relationship. My work uses sexual objectification of women and I am a willing cog in that machine. I have no choice. I have a contract. I'm just a woman. I use my assets to make a living. I'm just a girl, what difference can I make.
Even while grocery shopping I'm fully made up. Men are nice to a pretty woman. They help me, hold doors open, carry my groceries, and I just bat my eyelashes, bend my leg at the knee and bite my lip. I see them checking out my seamed stockings or staring at my bosom or watch my butt wiggle as I walk heel toe heel toe down the magazine isle in my 5 inch spikes and pink leather mini.
Oh em gee I had to go to home depot one day after work, wearing a sheer diaphanous red dress and strappy Manolo Blahnik's, red lipstick, red nails, silk stockings, dressed to the nines, and every man there wanted to help and I didn't have to do a thing. I sat at the front on a bench with my legs crossed, clicked through my social media, refreshed my lipstick and just looked pretty.
The girls and I are all like that. A fem pack of fashion conscious women in the city. I am a part of it. I fit in. I certainly look the part now.
The girls helped me discover that pinks and their various hues are definitely my color, like, I am totes a fem woman so I should breathe it in. I have pink heels, pink skirts, pink jewelry, pink lipstick, pink nails and pink nose ring. I am a pink girl. Also I am one of the bimbo girls. A high heeled glorfied secretary with sexy legs oozing sexiness with my plump pink lips and low cut dress in the office, walking around in designer pumps looking gorgeous, organizing racks of nylons, smiling at the men coz they can't keep their eyes off me.
After modeling? I will be hawt a buxom beautician doing hair and gossiping with long designer nails in a coral frock with heavy makeup, a pierced nose and tongue, dangly earrings, bangle bracelets, kissable pink lips, deep cleavage in my sundress, shapely legs in sheer nude pantyhose with shocking hot pink toenails showing from my strappy heeled sandals drawing admiring glances from men wherever I go. Me. I'm cool with that. It's why I became a woman. I am living my dream to have transformed from man to basically a painted up Barbie. I get to dress up and play with makeup and shoes.
forced femme force feminization femdom
And sell a little pantyhose in the process.
Nobody knew I masqueraded as a woman and went to bars to pickup men. My girlfriend caught me walking down the street dressed as a woman. There I stood, in little black dress, in front of a busy restaurant, confronted by my girlfriend. I was humiliated as she pointed out my hot pink pedicure and toe ring visible through the black pantyhose I was wearing with my high heeled sandals. She was freaked out how I had deep cleavage and great legs. Ugh.
soft girl
bimbo
When I started this journey I never thought I would loose my past so completely.
It's important to me to put 100% off my energy into claiming the power of the feminine by adhering to the feminine gender. Now, I state plainly: I am an airhead, no lie, an attractive unintelligent woman. I am sooooo on board with my women's subordinate status that it's scary. I am compliant and submissive because that is what my job requires. I am a model. It's a thing. Don't judge.
My coworkers and I do what we can to look and feel our best. The girls helped me see I am a soft girl and being a model brought forward my hotness with a polished new hyper feminine identity. I'm a girl. A girly girl. Like, work only requires a plain mani, but my coworkers decided I should really go for the coffin nails look and I have had at least 1 1/2 inch fingernails since. So swish and perfect for my girly style. I'm such a follower and don't have to make my own style decisions lately. Why think when you've got pink and glittery fingernails?
When work made me model exclusively strappy heels or wedges because of my soft and girly feet, the girls took that decision and we extended it to my personal life so I won't go any where without wearing pantyhose, short dresses or skirts showcasing my toned feminine legs and sky high heels that show off my foot model pedicure with toe rings and ankle bracelets on display.
In my work success is partiay determined by maintaining a romantic relationship with a man, and I found my sexuality can be used to maintain the relationship. My work uses sexual objectification of women and I am a willing cog in that machine. I have no choice. I have a contract. I'm just a woman. I use my assets to make a living. I'm just a girl, what difference can I make.
Even while grocery shopping I'm fully made up. Men are nice to a pretty woman. They help me, hold doors open, carry my groceries, and I just bat my eyelashes, bend my leg at the knee and bite my lip. I see them checking out my legs or staring at my bosom or watch my butt wiggle as I walk heel toe heel toe down the magazine isle in my 5 inch spikes.
Oh em gee I had to go to home depot one day after work, wearing a sheer diaphanous red dress and strappy Manolo Blahnik's, red lipstick, red nails, silk stockings, dressed to the nines, and every man there wanted to help and I didn't have to do a thing. I sat at the front on a bench with my legs crossed, clicked through my social media, refreshed my lipstick and just looked pretty.
The girls and I are all like that. A fem pack of fashion conscious women in the city. I am a part of it. I fit in. I certainly look the part now.
The girls helped me discover that pinks and their various hues are definitely my color, like, I am totes a fem woman so I should breathe it in. I am just one of the bimbo girls.
Transgender bride
Sissy bride
Transsexual wife
Sissy wife
Trans Sissy
Housewife
June cleaver
1950s vintage housewife
House husband
Sissy husband
Black men love my transsexual sissy sexy secretary housewife curvy trans self. My pretty feet and toes turn them on. When I caress them with my long painted fingernails they love it. Indian men from India love me also. Especially when I wear a burka burqa.
My brothers and me and some friends getting ready to play football, when my mom comes out and makes me wear a poncho. How am I supposed to look cool in a helmet and shoulder pads with a shawl on?????
I love women very much, but even if I love to wear women's underwear and girdles, I don't want to simulate femininity and I don't have transsexual ambitions. (I don't own men's underwear since a long time.) I'm just a fat, effeminate loser, so I expose myself wearing bra, garter belt and women's stockings to my public humiliation. I do this, as seen in some pictures, also in the street and in parks.
Read more about me and my life on my website with lots of pictures, videos and texts (en/en). You can find the link on the info/start page on the right side under the showcase pictures.