View allAll Photos Tagged hypocrisy
Hypocrisy in action on the Drive Frank and Danse were two native homeless people who lived on the sidewalk , they both died of Covid and now the snowflakes pretend that they miss them , that is really pathetic
Good instructions are to be accompanied by good example. That teaching which issues only from the lips is not at all likely to sink any deeper than the ears. Children are particularly quick to detect inconsistencies, and despise hypocrisy… How they need to be constantly on their guard against anything which might render them contemptible in the eyes of those who should respect and revere them! - A W Pink
"But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, reasonable, full of mercy and good fruits, unwavering, without hypocrisy."
Pressing L is nice ;-)
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie. Lettice is visiting her old family home for the wedding of Leslie to Arabella, the daughter of their neighbours, Lord Sherbourne and Lady Isobel Tyrwhitt. She has come a few days earlier than the other family members who are coming to stay at Glynes for the significant event.
Alighting from the London train at Glynes village railway station, Lettice is quickly swept away to the house by Harris, the chauffer, in the Chetwynd’s 1912 Daimler. As the Daimler purrs up the gravel driveway, Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler, steps through the front door followed by Marsen, the liveried first footman. Descending the stairs Marsden pads across the crunching gravel and opens the door of the Daimler for Lettice.
“Welcome home, My Lady,” Bramley greets her with an open smile as she walks up the steps to the front door. “What a pleasure it is to see you back again.”
“Thank you Bramley,” she replies with a satisfied smile and a sigh as she looks up at the classical columned portico of her beloved childhood home basking in the weakening autumnal sunshine of the late morning. “It’s good to be home.”
She sweeps into the lofty classical Adam style entrance hall of Glynes where she waits for Bramley to accept her gloves, her fox fur stole and her grey travelling coat.
“How was the train journey from London, My Lady?” Bramley asks Lettice as helps her shirk her coat from her shoulders, revealing a smart silvery grey frock with a sailor collar, a double rope of perfect pearls given to her by her parents as a coming of age birthday gift about her neck.
“Oh, quite pleasant, thank you Bramley.”
“Her Ladyship is expecting you in the morning room.”
“I’ll just go upstairs and freshen up first.” Lettice points to her escape route up the stairs to her bedroom up on the third floor of the mansion.
“Very good My Lady. However… I should…” Bramley adds with a touch of hesitation. Sighing he continues, “Master Lionel has arrived home from British East Africa*.”
Lettice feels all the happiness she felt moments ago at returning to her childhood home for the wonderful occasion of her eldest brother’s wedding dissipate at the mere mention of her other brother’s name. Her face falls and the sparkle in her eyes is extinguished by a darkness. “Oh.” she mumbles, as she deposits her gloves in Bramley’s open and expectant hand.
“I… I thought you were better pre-warned, My Lady.” Bramley says dourly. “Her Ladyship has been anxious awaiting your arrival. She will wan….”
As if on cue, one of the double doors to the morning room just down the passageway opens with a squeak of door handles, the pop of a lock and the rasp of old wood.
“Ahh, Lettice!” Lady Sadie’s head crowned with her well-coiffed grey hair pops around the panelled door and smiles rather forcefully.
The older woman slips out the door, closing it quietly behind her before marching brusquely down the hall towards her daughter, the louis heels of her shoes clipping loudly on the parquetry floor beneath her.
“Thank god you’re here at last!” she sighs quietly with relief as she reaches her daughter’s side and places a hand heavily upon her forearm. “I thought you would never get here! I simply don’t think I can cope alone much longer with both your brother and Eglantine together in the same room.” She breathes heavily, as if her heart is under a major strain. “You must come and rescue me, at once.”
“But I was about to…” Lettice begins, gesticulating to the stairs.
“At once!” Lady Sadie demurs commandingly.
“Shall I bring some fresh tea, Your Ladyship?” Bramley asks.
“I’d prefer a dubonnet and gin at this moment.” Lady Sadie sighs, much to the surprise of both her unflappable faithful retainer and her daughter, both of whom exchange astonished glances. “My nerves are positively shot with Lionel and Eglantine to entertain all my own,” She looks accusingly at her daughter, as if she were responsible for the train arrival times from London. “And your father and brother conveniently nowhere in sight.”
“They’ll be out on estate business, Mamma.” Lettice chides her mother gently, as she unpins her hat from her head and passes it to the butler.
“It’s more convenience if you ask me.” She sniffs and stiffens, a steely haughtiness hardening the few softened edges of her face. “Considering the time of day, tea will have to suffice. Yes, Bramley. A fresh pot if you would, and some more biscuits if you can manage it.” Turning to Lettice she adds, “Your aunt always did have an over indulged sweet tooth, even during the war when we were on rations, and it seems that your brother has developed an unhealthy love of sugar during his time in Nairobi.”
“Very good, Your Ladyship.” Bramley says as he discreetly retreats with Lettice’s hat.
Wrapping her arm through Lettice’s, Lady Sadie forcefully guides her daughter towards the closed morning room door. “I know Emmery usually takes care of you when you are here, Lettice, but your Aunt Gladys’ maid has caught the flu, at the most inconvenient of times. So, Eglantine has graciously offered to share her maid with you.”
“Oh Mamma!” Lettice exclaims exasperatedly, her stomach tightening as they draw closer to the door. “I really don’t need a lady’s maid. I’m quite independent in London you know. It is 1922 after all – nearly 1923.”
“Now, now!” Lady Sadie scolds. “I can’t have idle servants’ gossip below stairs. What would the maids from the other guests think if their hostess’ daughter declines the use of a lady’s maid? Next, they’ll be calling you a bluestocking**!” Lettice rolls her eyes. “No!” Lady Sadie pressed her right hand firmly over Lettice’s left one. “We’ll just make up an excuse that your maid was taken ill too. In saying that, I can’t believe that Eglantine brought that awful girl!”
“Who, Lise?” Lettice queries, referring to her aunt’s lady’s maid by her first name. When Lady Sadie nods, she continues, “I’ve always found Lise to be very sweet and obliging.”
“It’s not her manner I mind,” the older woman lowers her voice. “It’s her cultural heritage that offends me.”
“Oh Mamma! How many times must you be told? Lise, just like Augusta and Clotilde, are Swiss, not German.”
“Swiss, German, it matters not! They are still foreign!” Lady Sadie snaps. “Eglantine always was contrary. Why on earth she had to have a foreigner when a good English lady’s maid would have been perfectly comparable is beyond my comprehension.”
“Well perhaps it’s…” Lettice begins, but her retort is cut short as her mother depresses the door handle to the morning room and pushes it open.”
“Here she is!” Lady Sadie announces brightly with false bonhomie to the guests sitting in her chairs. “Lettice is here at last!”
The Glynes morning room is very much Lady Sadie’s preserve, and the original classical Eighteenth Century design has been overlayed with the comfortable Edwardian clutter of her continual and conspicuous acquisition that is the hallmark of a lady of her age and social standing. China cabinets of beautiful porcelain line the walls. Clusters of mismatched chairs unholstered in cream fabric, tables and a floral chaise lounge, all from different eras, fill the room: set up to allow for the convivial conversation of the great and good of the county after church on a Sunday. The hand painted Georgian wallpaper can barely be seen for paintings and photographs in ornate gilded frames. The marble mantelpiece is covered by Royal Doulton figurines and more photos in silver frames. Several vases of Glynes’ hothouse flowers stand on occasional tables, but even their fragrance cannot smother Lady Sadie’s Yardley Lily of the Valley scent which is ever present in the air.
“Well, if it isn’t my favourite nice!” Eglantine, known by all the Chetwnd children by the affectionate diminutive name of ‘Aunt Egg’, exclaims as she sits regally in the straight-backed chair next to Sadie’s soft upholstered wingback chair.
When she was young, Eglantine had Titian red hair that fell in wavy tresses about her pale face, making her a popular muse amongst the Pre-Raphaelites she mixed with. With the passing years, her red hair has retreated almost entirely behind silver grey, save for the occasional streak of washed out reddish orange, yet she still wears it as she did when it was at its fiery best, sweeping softly about her almond shaped face, tied in a loose chignon at the back of her neck, held in place by an ornate tortoiseshell comb. Sitting with perfect posture in her chair with her arms resting lightly on the arms, she looks positively regal. Large chandelier earrings containing sparking diamonds hang from her lobes whilst strings of pearls and bright beads cascade down the front of her usual uniform of a lose Delphos dress** that does not require her to wear a corset of any kind, and a silk fringed cardigan, both in strikingly beautiful shades of sea blue.
“Hullo Aunt Egg.” Lettice replies as she walks over to her aunt’s seated figure and kisses her first on one proffered cheek and then the other as her aunt’s elegant, yet gnarled fingers covered in rings reach up and clench her forearms firmly. “I keep saying that I’m sure you say that to Lally and all our female cousins.”
“And I keep telling you that you will never know until after I’m gone.” her aunt laughs raspily in reply. “For then the truth will be known through the disbursement of my jewels. To my favourite, or favourites, go the spoils!”
“Oh Aunt Egg!” Lettice scoffs. “You really mustn’t talk like that.”
“Eglantine always talks like that.” mutters Lady Sadie disapprovingly as she resumes her own seat.
“I wish I was six feet under when I can’t even smoke one of my Sobranies****.” Eglantine quips sulkily. “But your mother won’t let me smoke in here.”
“It’s undignified for a lady to smoke in public.” Sadie defends.
“I thought that we were in private, dear Sadie.”
“Don’t be so literal Eglantine, or are you being obtuse on purpose?” Sadie asks. Eglantine smiles mischievously behind one of her hands at the rise she has gained from her detested sister-in-law. “It’s undignified for a lady to smoke. Anyway, this is my house, so I should be allowed to make the rules.”
“Hullo Lettuce Leaf!” comes a male voice to Lettice’s right, its well-modulated tones dripping with a mixture of mirth, mischief and malice.
Cringing at the use of her abhorred childhood nickname, Lettice turns her head, to where her brother, Lionel’s reclining form lies amidst the overstuffed confines of their mother’s floral chaise lounge, where he flips rather languidly through a more recent copy of Lady Sadie’s Elite Styles*****. He looks up at her and purses his thin lips in what Lettice can only presume is his version of a mean smile, but looks more like he just smelt fresh horse droppings.
“Lionel.” Lettice says laconically in a peevish tone, returning his steely gaze of her with her own.
“Your brother has just been regaling us with wild tales of his horse breeding in British East Africa,” Eglantine remarks cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the animosity radiating already between the two siblings. “Haven’t you, my darling boy!” She lets go of Lettice and reaches over to her nephew’s hand, which he proffers to her so she can grasp it lovingly.
Lettice casts her eyes critically over her brother. His looks have changed over the three years of his exile to Kenya after fathering illegitimate children to not one, but two of the Glynes maids and the dullard daughter of one of their father’s tenant farmers in the space of one year. He has lost the softness of entitlement that he had, replaced now by a more muscular ranginess created through the exertions of breeding horses on a high altitude stud on the slopes of the Aberdare Range******. The African sun has bleached his sandy tresses blonde, a change made even more noticeable by the golden sunbathed pallor of his face. Yet for all these changes, Lionel still has blue eyes as cold as chips of ice, full of hatred, and a mean and malevolent smile beneath his equally mean little strip pencil moustache as he looks at her with barely contained detestation. Lettice shudders and looks away.
“It looks as though the Kenyan climate agrees with you, Lionel,” Lettice concedes. “You look remarkably well.”
“I am well, my dear little sister.” he replies in a rather bored tone. “The sun is glorious out there: full and rich, not like the weak version shining here.”
“Sit here, Lettice my dear.” Eglantine insists, standing up, snatching up her Royal Doulton rose decorated teacup and gliding around the table on which sits the remains of morning tea.
“Oh no, Aunt Egg.” Lettice protests. “I’ll be quite fine…”
“Nonsense, my dear.” Eglantine settles into the ornate Victorian salon chair of unidentifiable style opposite, the hem of her gown pooling around her feet like a cascade of water. “Your mother and I have had all morning to chat with Lionel. You two are the closest in age, and besides, you haven’t seen each other in three years, so I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”
Just at that moment there is a discreet knock at the door.
“Come.” calls out Lady Sadie commandingly from her throne by the cracking fire.
The door is opened by Moira, one of the Chetwynd’s maids who has taken to assisting wait table at breakfast and luncheon on informal occasions since the war, who walks into the morning room holding the door open for Bramley, who steps across the threshold carrying a silver salver on which stand a fresh pot of tea and coffee, milk, sugar and a cup matching the others already being used for Lettice.
“You had better have brought more of those biscuits, Bramley!” Lionel snaps at the butler, carelessly tossing the magazine he had in his thin hands aside onto the floral pouffe that acts as a barrier between he and his sister, the magazine clipping his cup, which rattles emptily as it jostles in its saucer. “A man needs to eat!”
“Yes Sir.” Bramley replies obsequiously, politely ignoring Lionel’s rudeness as he carefully slides the tray, on which stands a plate of fresh colourful cream biscuits, onto the round central table as Moira picks up the tray of used tea implements to take away.
As Moira straightens up, Lionel catches her eye and gives her a conspiratorial wink, making the maid smirk and colour flood her cheeks. Although not noticed by Lady Sadie or Eglantine who are now engaged in a conversation about flowers for the wedding, Lettice’s sharp eye doesn’t miss the silent exchange between the two, and as Moira curtseys to her mistress, Lettice makes a mental note to have a word with the Chetwynd’s housekeeper, Mrs. Casterton, later, and remind her to have her warn not only Moira, but all the new maids on the staff about her brother’s roué ways.
“I see you haven’t changed, Lionel.” Lettice remarks dryly as she takes her seat next to her abhorred brother, glancing meaningfully between him and the retreating figure of Moira.
“Evidently neither have you, Lettuce Leaf.” Lionel smirks with unbridled delight as his sister cringes yet again at the mention of her nickname. “You always were the Chetwynd with the sharpest eye. I should have aimed better at you with my slingshot when I was eight and you were six.” He shuffles forward on the chaise and snatches three biscuits greedily from the gilt edged plate before shuffling back with them, tossing two carelessly onto his saucer with a clatter and placing the remaining one to his lips. “If I’d had a sharper eye, I’d have had better aim. If I’d had better aim, I could have blinded you like I wanted to. If I’d blinded you, in one eye at least, it would have saved me a lot of trouble later in life, and banishment to the wilds of Africa.”
“You always were cruel to me,” Lettice mutters bitterly with a shiver as she remembers the sharp pain of the stone at it hit her temple and imbedded itself into her flesh. “To all of us, really. Lally, even Leslie,” She reaches up and rubs the spot where a faint scar still remains from the gash left by the stone shot from her brother’s catapult. “But cruellest of all to me. You savoured every hurt you could inflict on me.”
“Survival of the fittest, my dear Lettuce Leaf.” He bites meaningfully into the biscuit, growling menacingly, imitating a wild beast tearing at the flesh of its kill.
“You’re a brute, Lionel.” Lettice looks away in disgust. She reaches out and takes up the teacup Bramley brought her and pours tea into her cup.
“Top me up, Lettuce Leaf!” Lionel pipes up loudly.
“Oh!” gasps Eglantine from across the table. “I haven’t heard you called that for years, Lettice.” She chortles happily. “Haven’t you two grown out of calling each other childhood nicknames?” she remarks good naturedly, picking up her cup.
“Evidently not, Aunt Egg.” Lettice replies with false good humour.
From her wingback chair Sadie quickly glances with concern at her two youngest children before turning back to Eglantine and answering her question.
Lettice deposits her cup on the table between she and her mother and then reaches for the teapot. She leans over towards her brother, who indicates with lowered lids and a commanding nod towards his empty cup, however she ignores his lofty silent demand and hovers with the pot’s spout over Lionel’s groin.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Lionel snarls viscously as he glances with irritation at his sister.
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” She tilts the pot slightly, making Lionel flinch and squirm on the chaise in an attempt to avoid any hot tea hitting and burning him in such a sensitive area. Seeing his reaction, she smiles and returns the pot to an upright position in her hand. “I’m not the frightened little girl you said goodbye to here three years ago, Lionel.” she warns him quietly. “I live independently in London now, and I’m a lot more worldly than I was.”
“Slut!” he hisses.
His insult slices Lettice to the bone, but steeling herself, she remains poised and unflinching as she tilts the pot down again, this time allowing the smallest amount of hot tea to escape the spout. It splatters onto a cream coloured rose printed on the fabric of the chaise and is quickly absorbed. “Is that the kind of parlance fashionable in Nairobi these days?” she asks mockingly in a falsely sweet tone.
“I’ll tell you what I do know, my dear little sister, having been a damn good racehorse breeder these last three years.”
“And what’s that Lionel?” Lettice proceeds to pour tea into her brother’s empty cup.
“I can tell that you’re still a stupid little filly who needs a good siring from a stallion.” He gently grinds his groin back and forth, representing the act.
Unflinching, Lettice replies breezily, “Oh, so you’ve learned about animal husbandry whilst you’ve been away. Good.” She leans closer to Lionel. “But your use of that language and vulgar and unnecessary demonstration just makes me feel even more disgusted by you.” She screws up her nose in distaste and looks down upon him.
Undeterred, determined not to be outdone and to inflict hurt on his little sister, Lionel continues, “Mater told me that here you are at twenty-two and you’re still an old maid, despite her attempts to get you married off.”
“In case you’ve forgotten Lionel, there has been a war, and a whole generation of men far better than you have been wiped out.”
“Mater would happily foist you off onto any unwitting fool of a man, war cripple or otherwise that would have you. However, it appears that there are no takers: not even a shellshock victim or a blind veteran. If that’s what you call living an independent life, I pity you, Lettuce Leaf - shrivelled and dried up old Lettuce Leaf, trodden on and soiled, Lettuce Leaf.”
“I have a good life in London, I’ll have you know, Lionel. I run my own business now.”
“Oh yes, Mater told me that you’re pursuing this little interior design charade of yours to fill the gap that no husband will fill.”
“And I happen to be very good at what I do.” Lettice speaks determinedly over her brother’s hurtful words.
“If you say so, dear.” Lionel sneers. “Pass me the milk and the sugar.”
“I’ve been very successful” Lettice passes him the sugar bowl.
“Going to snitch to Pater and Mater again, are you, you little worm?” Lionel shakes his head as he hands the sucrier back to his sister. “Just like you did three years ago.”
“If I think there is a necessity, Lionel.” Lettice remarks as she returns the sugar bowl and takes up the milk jug. Leaning down in a pretence of adding milk to his tea, she quietly whispers to Lionel, “Have I cause to do so?”
“What?” Lionel snorts derisively as he takes the jug roughly from her. “With that little filly?” He glances to the door through which Moira exited with Bramley. “Fear not, my plucky little sister. My tastes have changed since I was forced to leave here.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Lettice scoffs. “A leopard, his spots and all that.”
“No, I have, I assure you. I prefer mares now. The quality is better.”
“What are you insinuating, Lionel?”
“Well, despite Pater’s attempt to punish me for my dalliances: for the sewing of my wild oats,” Lettice looks away in abhorrence yet again as Lionel reaches down and rubs his inner thigh lasciviously. “He’s actually landed me in heaven on earth by sending me to Kenya.”
“Heaven?”
“Yes. The Muthaiga Club******* is full of hedonistic aristocrats, adventurers and elite colonial ex-pats,”
“No wonder you feel at home there.”
“Whose wives,” Lionel continues. “Are very bored in their husbands’ lengthy absences,” He hands her back the milk jug. “And their tiring presences. And unlike silly little fillies like the Moiras of this world, the mares know how not to get in the family way.”
“You sicken me, Lionel.” Lettice spits quietly.
In spite of her apparent engagement with Eglantine in conversation, Lady Sadie is keenly aware of the trouble brewing between er two children on the other side of the table, and her pale face crumples with concern.
“Nairobi is a veritable hotbed of drug taking and adultery,” Lionel goes on unabated. “Where promiscuity is de rigueur, little sister.” He smiles smugly as he takes a sip of his tea. “I was even taught a few things by the wife of a British peer who happens to be a good friend of Pater’s from his club!”
“Have you absolutely no shame?” Lettice asks in revulsion.
“Ahh, but that’s the good thing about Kenya. No-one has any need for shame there. Promiscuity and sexual prowess are badges of honour.”
“Then I’m sure you can’t wait to get back to your debauched lifestyle.”
“When I’m surrounded by British piety and hypocrisy here, my oath I am.”
“What are you two saying over there?” Lady Sadie pipes up nervously as she holds her cup and saucer in her lap.
“Oh, I was just asking Lionel when he has to go back to Kenya.” Lettice replies, looking gratefully to her mother for once.
“But he’s only just arrived, Lettice my dear!” chuckles Eglantine. “Surely you can’t want him to leave.”
“Oh it isn’t that, Eglantine,” Lady Sadie assures her sister-in-law. “It’s just that with the long journey both from British East Africa and back, he’ll have been away from the stud a good while, so he can only really stay until just after the wedding.”
“Oh really, Lionel?” Eglantine asks with a pout. “Can’t you even stay until Christmas? I don’t think we’ve had a Christmas with all you children under one roof since before the war.”
Knowing that his father, with whom he has a very strained relationship since being exiled in shame, only let him come back for Leslie and Arabella’s wedding for appearances’ sake, Lionel keeps up the pretence for his aunt’s sake and adds as he settles back into the scalloped back of the chaise, “Sorry Aunt Egg, but Mater is right. I’ll have been away from the farm for more than a month and a half by the time I get back.”
“But surely you have a steward you can leave in charge of the horse stud whilst you’re away.”
“Oh, I do, Aunt Egg.” Lionel agrees. “Capital chap too. Most capable.” He gazes down into his teacup. “However, it doesn’t pay to be away for too long. Kenya is full of treasure hunters and people on the make. I won’t let my stud suffer to line the pockets of, or up the prospects of, another man.”
“You always were competitive, even as child, my dear Lionel.” Eglantine smiles, shaking her head indulgently.
“Thinking of which, the Limru races will be coming up, not to mention the Kenya Derby******** so I have to be back for them!”
“Oooh!” Lettice sighs, raising her hand to her temple. “I think all this talk of wild Kenya is getting a bit much for me after my journey down from London.” She stands abruptly. “Would you all forgive me. I think I’d like to go to my room and lie down. I’m sure I’ll feel better after a short snooze and a freshen up.”
“Oh yes, do go up, Lettice.” Lady Sadie says soothingly, the look in her eyes betraying the fact that she knows how difficult it is for Lettice to even be in the same room as her brother. “It will be an hour or so before luncheon, so plenty of time to rest and recuperate. By that time your father and Leslie will be back from their estate rounds.” Turning to Eglantine she addresses her, “Eglantine, why don’t you and Lionel take a stroll around the gardens. I can’t stop you from smoking out of doors, and I’m sure Lionel would be happy to escort you.”
Lettice retreats, sighing with relief as she pulls the door of the morning room shut behind her, blocking out the hubbub of chatter. As she starts to retreat down the corridor, back to the main staircase, the door opens behind her and Lady Sadie slips out.
She scuttles up to her daughter. For the first time today, Lettice notices how pale and drawn her mother looks. Her pallor isn’t helped by her choice of a burnt orange coloured blouse, yet Lettice sees the dark circles under her eyes.
“Thank you for that, Lettice. I know that wasn’t easy for you.”
Lettice is stunned by her mother’s gracious acknowledgement and more so her thanks.
“Don’t worry,” Lady Sadie continues. “He’ll be gone the day after the wedding.” She heaves a shuddering sigh.
“If I don’t murder him before then.” Lettice seethes angrily.
“Well, if you do, I’ll help you bury his body in the rose garden.” Lady Sadie remarks with a smirk in a rare show of humour. “Your father has seen to it that Lionel will leave on Thursday, threating to cut him off without a bean if he doesn’t go quickly and quietly. Goodness knows the total of Lionel’s chits from the Muthaiga Club your father could practically re-roof this place with.”
“He’s just the same Mamma.” Lettice says with exasperation. “He hasn’t changed at all. In fact, I think he’s worse than before he left. He’s so full of bravado and priggish male privilege.”
“I’ve already told Mrs. Casterton to keep a sharp eye on all the maids whilst he’s here.”
“That won’t be easy with Leslie and Bella’s wedding to host, Mamma. You’d be better to tell her to warn all the girls to be on their guard.”
“Hhhmmm…” Lady Sadie considers. “Very sensible, Lettice. We’ll make you a suitable chatelaine of your own fine house, yet.”
“Oh Mamma!” Lettice sighs.
“Only until Thursday.” the older woman repeats.
“Only until Thursday.” Lettice confirms in reply.
*The Colony and Protectorate of Kenya, commonly known as British Kenya or British East Africa, was part of the British Empire in Africa. It was established when the former East Africa Protectorate was transformed into a British Crown colony in 1920. Technically, the "Colony of Kenya" referred to the interior lands, while a 16 km (10 mi) coastal strip, nominally on lease from the Sultan of Zanzibar, was the "Protectorate of Kenya", but the two were controlled as a single administrative unit. The colony came to an end in 1963 when an ethnic Kenyan majority government was elected for the first time and eventually declared independence as the Republic of Kenya.
**The term bluestocking was applied to any of a group of women who in mid Eighteenth Century England held “conversations” to which they invited men of letters and members of the aristocracy with literary interests. The word over the passing centuries has come to be applied derisively to a woman who affects literary or learned interests.
***The Delphos gown is a finely pleated silk dress first created in about 1907 by French designer Henriette Negrin and her husband, Mariano Fortuny y Madrazo. They produced the gowns until about 1950. It was inspired by, and named after, a classical Greek statue, the Charioteer of Delphi. It was championed by more artistic women who did not wish to conform to society’s constraints and wear a tightly fitting corset.
****The Balkan Sobranie tobacco business was established in London in 1879 by Albert Weinberg (born in Romania in 1849), whose naturalisation papers dated 1886 confirm his nationality and show that he had emigrated to England in the 1870s at a time when hand-made cigarettes in the eastern European and Russian tradition were becoming fashionable in Europe. Sobranie is one of the oldest cigarette brands in the world. Throughout its existence, Sobranie was marketed as the definition of luxury in the tobacco industry, being adopted as the official provider of many European royal houses and elites around the world including the Imperial Court of Russia and the royal courts of United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Spain, Romania, and Greece. Premium brands include the multi-coloured Sobranie Cocktail and the black and gold Sobranie Black Russian.
*****Elite Styles was one of the many glossy monthly magazines aimed at leisured middle and upper-class women, describing and illustrating the popular fashions of the era.
******The Aberdare Range (formerly the Sattima Range) is a one hundred mile long mountain range of upland, north of Kenya's capital Nairobi with an average elevation of thirteen thousand one hundred and thirty feet. It straddles across the counties of Nyandarua, Nyeri, Muranga, Kiambu and Laikipia.
*******The Muthaiga Club is a club in Nairobi. It is located in the suburb of Muthaiga, about fifteen minutes’ drive from the city centre. The Muthaiga Country Club opened on New Year's Eve in 1913, and became a gathering place for the colonial British settlers in British East Africa, which later became in 1920, the Colony of Kenya.
********The annual Kenya Derby has been held since 1914, originally at Kenya’s principal racecourse in Kariokor, near Nairobi’s centre until 1954 when it was moved to the newly erected Ngong Racecourse.
Cluttered with paintings, photographs and furnishings, Lady Sadie’s morning room with its Georgian and Victorian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection including pieces from my own childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The silver tea set and silver galleried tray on the central table has been made with great attention to detail, and comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The gilt edged floral teacups, saucers and plates around the morning room come from a miniatures specialist stockist on E-Bay. The wonderful selection of biscuits on offer were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The Elite Styles and Delineator magazines from 1922 sitting on the end of the chaise lounge and the floral pouffe were made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States.
Lady Sadie’s morning room is furnished mostly with pieces from high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq. Lady Sadie’s cream wingback armchair is a Chippendale piece, whilst the gilt decorated mahogany tables are Regency style, as is the straight backed chair with unpadded arms. The ornate mahogany corner chair is high Victorian in style. The desk and its matching chair is a Salon Reine design, hand painted and copied from an Eighteenth Century design. All the drawers open and it has a lidded rack at either end. The china cabinet to the left-hand side is Georgian revival and is lined with green velvet and fitted with glass shelves and a glass panelled door. The cream coloured footstool with gold tasselling came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom. The floral chaise lounge and footstool I acquired from a miniatures specialist stockist on E-Bay.
The china cabinet is full of miniature pieces of Limoges porcelain that were made in the 1950s. Pieces include a milk jug, three sugar bowls and two lidded powder bowls. Also 1950s Limoges porcelain is the vase on the far left of the photo on the Regency table holding pink roses. The roses themselves are handmade miniatures that come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The fluted squat cranberry glass vase on the table to the right of the photo is an artisan miniature made of hand blown glass which also came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. Made of polymer clay that are moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements, the very realistic looking red and white tulips are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany. The tiny gilt cherub statue I have had since I was a teenager. I bought it from a high street stockist who specialised in dolls houses and doll house miniatures. Being only a centimetre in height and half a centimetre in diameter it has never been lost, even though I have moved a number of times in my life since its acquisition.
The plaster fireplace comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom as well, and the fire screen and fire pokers come from the same high street stockist who specialised in dolls houses and doll house miniatures as the cherub statue. I have also had these pieces since I was a teenager. The Royal Doulton style figurines on top the fireplace, are from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland and have been hand painted by me. The figurines are identifiable as particular Royal Doulton figurines from the 1920s and 1930s.
The Chetwynd’s family photos seen on Lady Sadie’s desk, the mantlepiece and hanging on the walls are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each. The largest frame on the right-hand side of the desk is actually a sterling silver miniature frame. It was made in Birmingham in 1908 and is hallmarked on the back of the frame. It has a red leather backing.
The two books about flower growing on Lady Sadie’s desk are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. What might amaze you is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. He also made the envelopes sitting in the rack to the left of the desk. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The painting of the Georgian family above the fireplace comes from Amber’s Miniatures in the United States, whilst the two silhouette portraits come from Lady Mile Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The painting of the lady in the gold frame wedged up in the corner of the room surrounded by photos is made by Marie Makes Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The Persian rugs on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.
“You see, I believe that Jesus gave us an eternal truth about the universality of feelings. Jesus was truthful about his feelings: Jesus wept; he got sad; Jesus got discouraged; he got scared; and he reveled in the things that pleased him. For Jesus, the greatest sin was hypocrisy. He always seemed to hold out much greater hope for a person who really knew the truth about himself or herself even though that person was a prostitute or a crooked tax collector. Jesus had much greater hope for someone like that than for someone who always pretended to be something he wasn’t.
-Rogers, Fred. Sermon. Sixth Presbyterian Church of Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh, PA. 27 August 1972. Print.
/****************************************************************************
Everyone seemed to believe with simple faith that law and order, morality, the "American way of life" and Christianity are all very much the same thing. Now it is becoming quite clear that they are not so at all.
-Thomas Merton: Selected Essays: Religion and Race in the United States, pg. 207) Orbis, O'Connell
This pose is almost a parody of itself at this point. It seems to be the only stance you see people in these days. Of course, the hypocrisy of it is, I’m standing just like that as I post this.
The Right to Abortion in the United States - The Last Power by Daniel Arrhakis (2022)
The U.S. Supreme Court will be able to nullify the right to abortion in the United States, provided for in the law since 1973.
Nearly 50 years later, the constitutional right to abort may be about to change.
An American political newspaper had access to a draft that provided for annulling the decision that protects women from having an abortion up to three months of pregnancy. This decision taking place could have consequences across the world.
Political hypocrisy takes on Machiavellian contours because some of those who are in favor of making abortion illegal even in cases of rape or in which the life of the woman is in danger, are the same ones who screamed from the seven winds against the use of the mask during the pandemic of Covid 19 or who are against gun control!
The Court's decision if it happens is extremely serious because it is not just a judicial decision but a political decision, and in this precedent the reversal of other fundamental rights achieved in recent decades.
If the right to life must be respected, the woman's freedom of conscience and decision about her own body must also be respected as an inalienable right.
We could claim a social morality or a religious morality, the problem is that the decision on Life and Death has always been seen as the last power of the States before the citizens and therefore of a political nature!
By removing the woman's freedom of choice and decision over her own body, we are confirming the power over her, with all the consequences that ensue, reducing her role to a simple reproducer, with no vote in the matter as to the number of children and even even implicitly as to their decision-making power in the family or over their own sexuality and ultimately their individual freedom.
We are facing the attempt of a patriarchal dictatorship that tries at all costs to maintain and in many cases recover its ancestral power at the expense of suffering and repression on the most fragile.
On the other hand, as has been seen in the past, its criminalisation will only increase the number of cases of clandestine abortion and the placing of the lives of women who do so in danger, in addition to increasing the risk of persecution and social exclusion.
Abortion must be prevented with social, educational and medical-psychological or spiritual support measures, but never with measures of repression and suppression of fundamental rights.
__________________________________________________
O Direito Ao Aborto Nos Estados Unidos - O último Poder por Daniel Arrhakis (2022)
O Supremo Tribunal norte-americano poderá anular o direito ao aborto nos Estados Unidos, previsto na lei desde 1973.
Quase 50 anos depois, o direito constitucional de abortar pode estar prestes a mudar.
Um jornal norte-americano político teve acesso a um rascunho que previa anular a decisão que protege a mulher de fazer um aborto até aos três meses de gestação. Esta decisão a ter lugar pode ter consequências em todo o Mundo.
A hipocrisia politica assume contornos maquiavélicos pois alguns dos que estão a favor da ilegalização do Aborto mesmo em casos de violação ou em que esteja em perigo a vida da mulher, são os mesmos que gritavam aos sete ventos contra o uso da máscara aquando da pandemia de COVID 19 ou que são contra o controlo das armas !
A decisão do Tribunal se acontecer reveste-se de uma gravidade extrema pois não se trata só de uma decisão judicial mas sim de uma decisão politica, podendo neste precedente a reversão de outros direitos fundamentais conseguidos nas ultimas décadas.
Se o direito à vida deve ser respeitado, também a liberdade de consciência e de decisão sobre o seu proprio corpo da mulher deve ser respeitado como um direito inalienável.
Poderíamos alegar uma moralidade social ou uma moralidade religiosa, o problema é que a decisão sobre a Vida e a Morte foi vista sempre como o ultimo poder dos Estados perante os cidadãos e portanto de cariz afincadamente politico !
Ao retirarmos a liberdade de escolha e de decisão da Mulher sobre o seu proprio corpo estamos a confirmar o poder sobre ela, com todas as consequências que daí advêm, reduzindo o seu papel a simples reprodutora, sem voto na matéria quanto ao número de filhos e até mesmo implicitamente quanto ao seu poder decisório na família ou sobre a sua própria sexualidade e em ultima análise a sua liberdade individual.
Estamos perante a tentativa de uma ditadura patriarcal que tenta a todo o custo manter e em muitos casos recuperar o seu poder ancestral à custa do sofrimento e da repressão sobre os mais frágeis.
Por outro lado como já se viu no passado a sua criminalização só aumentará os casos do aborto clandestino e a colocação das próprias vidas das mulheres que o fazem em perigo para além de aumentar o risco da perseguição e exclusão social.
O aborto deve ser prevenido com medidas sociais, educacionais e de apoio médico-psicológico ou espiritual, mas nunca com medidas de repressão e de retirada de direitos fundamentais.
If you don't get noticed, you don't have anything. You just have to be noticed, but the art is in getting noticed naturally, without screaming or without tricks.
Leo Burnett
One thing I hate is people screaming at me. If you want me to do something, talk to me.
Mario Lemieux
The self-righteous scream judgments against others to hide the noise of skeletons dancing in their own closets.
John Mark Green
When you're drowning, you don't say 'I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me,' you just scream.
John Lennon
Unfortunately, sometimes people don't hear you until you scream.
Stefanie Powers
Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
I read 255 books last year and I tried to be as diverse as possible in what I read. Many of these books were not released in 2018 (some were) but just reflect what I did read in the past year. So far, I have read three books this year and hope to read 300 by the end of the year. The photograph of the above sculpture was taken by myself yesterday at The Cultural Center in Chicago and is entitled In the Center There Were Librarians and other Gestures. The artist for this photograph is Susan Giles. I worked on the following list for the last week so sorry I haven’t been as active lately. I hope you all had a wonderful New Year’s!
1.Call Me Zebra by Azareen Van Der Vliet Oloomi
I saw this Iranian American Author speak at Printer’s Row this year and talk about her journey writing this novel, a really strong sense of the beauty and power of words along with the loss of human life in this one. It has reminiscences of the honoring of literature that often come about in Rabih Alameddine and Salman Rushdie’s work.
www.azareenvandervlietoloomi.com/about/
2.Dear Friend, From My Life I Write to You in Your Life by Yiyun Li
This has been classified as an autobiographical nonfiction memoir but it is so much more than this. It is endlessly philosophical about depression and suicide and an examination of life fully lived as well. It is very different than her fiction and not for casual readers who don’t want to feel deeply. Still, she has given us a gift of insight not just into herself but into the nature of humanity and that cannot be taken for granted. In the few months that have followed, I have thought back on this book and what a strong presence it made on my psyche. Yiyun Li is a Chinese American and I’m so grateful for immigrants like her adding to the canon of books we have available in this country to help make us better Americans and, more importantly, better humans.
www.penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/59088/yiyun-li
3.We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I read all of Adichie’s books this year and they are all very worthwhile to read. So many tackle issues of racism within American as well as in Africa (you have to remember, what is mass marketed overseas to Africans are shows like COPS that reinforce racism against African Americans). There seems to be so many strong Nigerian authors emerging at the moment and Adichie is the best of the best. Though some might not consider this text to be a full nonfiction work, I still consider it the most important one I read. Adichie explores in such insightful ways how sexism hurts not only women but men also in our current world. It’s something I would recommend for everyone (male, female, or gender neutral) to read or watch the lecture of.
www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_ngozi_adichie_we_should_all_...
4.Born Bright: A Young Girl's Journey from Nothing to Something in America by Nicole C. Mason
Ta-Nehisi Coates has so much to offer American in terms of understanding racism in all facets and the insights of someone who is an extremely intelligent man trying to raise a family in America. Nicole C. Mason does one thing better, though, which is to say she offers more solutions. As an African American woman, she has had to deal with her own challenges in terms of extreme poverty and racism and has overcome this to become a professor at Georgetown University and Executive Director of the Center for Research and Policy in the Public Interest at the New York Women's Foundation. Her insights into our current institutionalized racism and classism are something everyone should be educated on.
5. My Favorite Thing is Monsters by Emil Ferris
I only read five graphic novels this year, which is somewhat surprising considering I read about ten the year before that. Although I am not opposed to the classic superhero type of graphic novels, I’d really rather read more autobiographical type of novels or those that explore the human psyche more than anything else. My favorite graphic novel of all time is by David B. called Epileptic (French). I tend to enjoy the really creepy Tim Lane, Daniel Clowes, or Black Hole by Charles Burns. Anyway, this is also somewhat creepy but, even more so, richly artistic. The way that the drawings match the words in terms of both content and quality is truly a wondrous experience. This is a book you’ll delve into and have a hard time putting down and it is thick and fulfilling. It also takes place in the 1960s in the north side neighborhood of Uptown, Chicago, which is really interesting to see depicted. I love the scenes from the streets and the Art Institute especially. Within the book, the protagonist grapples with disease, murder, racism, sexual identity, and even the Holocaust. Apparently, this is only Book One and there might possibly be Book Two to look forward to later on this year. In any case, a really rich delight.
6.Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor
I read many books by Nnedi Okorafor this year but this one was by far my favorite…fantastical Nigerian Science Fiction at it’s finest. This book is intensely creative and extremely well written. It will make you wonder why Okorafor isn’t celebrated in every household in America but I think it’s well acknowledged that racism and sexism within the science fiction genre go hand in hand. Those who really pride themselves on appreciating the genre, however, better start getting woke fast. Reading this one might be a good place to begin.
7.We Were Eight Years in Power by Ta-Nehisi Coates
It isn’t enough to really consider yourself to be aware of racism in America and its history because, in order to be truly understanding of this, you have to know how racism has truly pervaded every aspect of America in an institutionalized way both historically and in modern times. I am pro-reparations and what I mean by that is that white people have stolen and oppressed people of color for so long that they are owed by us in so many ways. That is one reason why I don’t vote for white people any longer or donate to their campaigns. In any case, the racism that James Baldwin wrote about so eloquently in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s is still happening today and explored thoroughly and with in depth research by Coates. If you think racism is obsolete in America, you will have much to learn from this book of essays.
8.Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler
Octavia is another African American science fiction author that should be a cherished household name. She passed away when she was only in her 50s but she gave the world some of the most imaginative texts. I read quite a few of her novels this year but I liked both Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents best. It takes place in an apocalyptic America and, in the second of the series is a “leader” who takes over who literally screams “Make America Great Again” as his mantra, which is super creepy in its prophetic warning. I also love this concept she explores as a “sharer” who feels extreme and even physical empathy and a development of a new religion. Also really interesting to note is that Octavia was diagnosed with Dyslexia as a child….what a strong author she became despite it!
www.cnn.com/2018/06/22/culture/octavia-e-butler/index.html
9.Every Man Dies Alone by Hans Fallada/ Rudolf Wilhelm Friedrich Ditzen
I hate to put a white male author’s book on my list. I really do and, unfortunately, this is the first of three. But, in any case, Rabih Alameddine recommended this when I saw him at Printer’s Row Book Festival in Chicago and, as I love his novels, I felt I had to give it a chance. I admit, I didn’t regret it. This story is loosely based on the true story during the Holocaust of a man and a woman who decide they are going to write anti-fascism postcards against the Nazis. It was originally published in 1947 and takes place in Berlin. Fallada himself was not Jewish but led a really difficult life where quite early on, he was meant to die in a supposed duel, a suicide pact made with his male lover. His male lover died and he obviously did not. In any case, mainly this book is about the idea of resistance in any small or large way, even if it seems small, silly, or gets you killed. To resist fascism is to reaffirm your own humanity and the protagonists the Hampels can’t exist any other way. I have to admit, I found myself crying several times while reading this book, especially considering the relevance to modern day times. Alameddine commented on how silly and stupid it was for this couple in real life and in this book to do this…they knew they would be caught….but they managed to distribute hundreds of postcards that put in mind inklings of doubt into the German population about what Hitler was doing and that is extremely important. These days, we just tweet about how much we hate Trump but, back then, there were some who assumed the vast majority of the population approved of the human rights violations the Nazis were committing….which makes me wonder if perhaps social media could prevent another Holocaust.
www.nytimes.com/2009/03/01/books/review/Schillinger-t.html
10.Confessions by Kinae Minato
This is some grueling psychological craziness that you will go through but man is it ever worth it. Kinae Minato was an actual teacher in Japan before she decided to write the kind of horror that will haunt you. This one is mainly about the evil that children can commit and the parents that condone and/or encourage it…and, it’s about a society that subconsciously promotes it too or, as in American society, gives attention/press to those who harm and confuse others into thinking this is the best way to get noticed. It’s so much more than that, though, and it will mess you up for days. I read Haruki Murakami’s Killing Commendatore this year as well and this was far more effective in my opinion but this is also about vengeance and made me think of the Chan Wook Park series on the subject (though, he’s Korean vs. Japanese which is an important distinction).
www.latimes.com/books/jacketcopy/la-ca-jc-kanae-minato-20...
11. Jesse Ball: Census
There is no one who can write quite like Jesse Ball. It is almost as if it has been removed from time and space completely and exists in its own strange universe. And yet, it is not science fiction…it’s more like humanistic fiction…like a deep feeling realistic fiction. Though Census isn’t my favorite of his novels (my favorite is actually The Curfew followed by Silence Once Begun as a close second), it is as always well worth reading. There’s such a beautiful sense of this relationship of a father and son as they collect information about strangers…an almost fairy tale esque sort of feeling at times but not quite. It’s difficult to explain except to say that each moment of the story seems one in your life you’d cherish and therefore each word is a pleasure, which is odd considering that some categorize it as Dystopian Fiction. I guess one person’s Dystopia is another’s Utopia.
11.Colossus of New York by Colson Whitehead
Such a beautiful poetic and still realistic ode to a city that is always teeming with lives and energy. I’m originally from upstate NY (Rochester) and have visited NYC a few times…what exists there has changed over time but some things to remain more constant. Whitehead captures the essence in a way that is true and in a way that so many others have failed to. I’ve read quite a few of his books this year and have enjoyed all of them but none quite as much as this one. Although, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention he wrote an awesome zombie book, Zone One, that was excellent to read around Halloween.
13. Alice Walker
It’s very difficult to talk about Alice Walker at this time when there are so many accusations of anti-semitism. This is nothing new, in fact, as she’s supported Palestine and traveled there to learn about what has been happening to its people for a very long time. She has witnessed suffering and she has written poetry and accounts where she separates the beliefs of what she sees as radical Zionists and those who are Jewish who don’t advocate for suffering. Still, I don’t think it’s ok that she’s defending David Icke’s work and I am very concerned about that. Earlier this year, before all of the controversy surfaced, I had the chance to see Alice Walker as part of the Chicago Humanities Festival and so I read just about everything I possibly could beforehand from novels to poetry to essays. Alice Walker married a Jewish man and had a child with him in 1967…that’s probably important for people to consider. She has also done a ton of work to stop the practice of female genital mutilation in Africa. Her message is solidly one of peace and equality in the Middle East and I hope nothing has changed in that regard.
In any case, I am not going to devote multiple entries to Alice Walker but if you are interested in reading her work and deciding for yourself, your local library should have many selections without you needing to look any further. I greatly enjoyed the novels Meridian, By the Light of My Father’s Smile and the essay collections Cushion in the Road and Anything We Love Can Be Saved as my favorites. I’ll also remind people to realize that reading something objectively will not make you a harmful or hateful person. Be ready to learn from all perspectives, to reject some and consider others. That’s what being an intelligent human being is all about. Still, I don’t support anti-semitism or any other discrimination against humans and I hope the world continues to become a more accepting and loving place.
14.We Crossed a Bridge and it Trembled: A collection of the voices of Syrian Immigrants by Wendy Pearlman
Now more than ever it is very important to read about what is happening to this group of persecuted people and understand their perspectives…it is easy to see the anger and desperation, the sadness and sometimes bitterness in these lives but, at the same time, you connect with them on some small level. I can’t begin to imagine how it feels or how badly the US has messed up in this situation. I only know I care and am so very saddened and helpless by it all. Reading their thoughts and about their life experiences is the very least one can do.
www.theguardian.com/books/2017/aug/12/we-crossed-a-bridge...
15.Behold the Dreamers by Imbolo Mbue
Such an interesting book about hard working immigrants who are doubly affected by the economic crash in 2008 and who go to such great lengths to stay in America, a country which is basically ruining their very lives. This book really shows a strong sense of the immigrant struggle and the cluelessness of the white people around them in NYC but it has a strong storyline and sense of characters besides that which makes it all the more compelling.
16. I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter by Erika L. Sánchez
This one is so much more than a coming of age story. It combines culture and criticism of contemporary society and has such a witty writing style and takes place in Chicago, which made it an even better read for me. I think there’s an interesting exploration of what is expected of immigrants and their children and also what immigrants are expected to like and the conflict that comes from when those aren’t in sync. Very interesting read and also a very engaging writing style.
17.Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie
This book is really something…it’s a little about politics and family but it’s a great deal about love in this modern world, in all its messed up ways. It’s hard for me to talk about this book without giving away the ending, which has still stayed with me after many months but let’s just say it’s very effective and leaving a lasting image with you. Technically, this book is a reworking of Sophocles’ Antigone (it’s been too long since I read this actually) but with a modern retelling that includes the current political climate and ISIS. She won the Women’s Prize for Fiction this year for this book.
www.theguardian.com/books/2018/jun/06/kamila-shamsie-wins...
18. An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon
This science fiction novel combines a little bit of everything-class struggle, race struggle, and sexual identity struggle along within the overarching power struggle of what is written as postmodern space based slavery with an incredibly strong female protagonist leading the revolution. Well written and a fantastic addition to the genre.
www.npr.org/2017/10/06/548665897/unkindness-of-ghosts-tra...
19. All You Can Ever Know by Nicole Chung
This is an autobiographical novel based around Chung’s experience being adopted by a white family living in Oregon and explores both the nature of adoption and all of the difficulty that comes from that as well as racism and racial identity. It’s really interesting to see both an evolution of her thoughts and the way she interacts with her biological and adopted families. It’s possible that no one who was not adopted could understand how it feels just like it’s possible that a white person could never truly understand what it is like to be of another race. However, this book is quite honest, revealing, and a perspective that should be learned from.
20.Mischling by Affinity Konar
Affinity comes from a Jewish perspective with a Polish ancestry. This novel is based on some of the texts and non fictions surrounding the Holocaust based on twin studies and experiments. I’ve read quite a few books about the Holocaust but I didn’t realize myself the extend of these twin studies and ended up looking up a couple of the names of the most heinous individuals in this book. Affinity rightfully so pulls you into the characters, these two female twins in particular, and their unique bond as well as the overall bond of their family. Because the Nazis wanted to do scientific experiments on identical twins, parents were encouraged to give them up so that they wouldn’t be killed. However, the torture they endured (sometimes also leading to death) was worse than death in some instances. The worst of humanity can be found within these pages…it’s a harrowing read but I also learned from it and feel texts like this are important to remind us that we can never repeat this history.
21. One Amazing Thing by Chitra Divakaruni
I loved the concept of a group of people trapped in a situation where, though they are total strangers and come from very different backgrounds, must trust each other with their life stories. And, what really comes through is the richness of a life and of diverse experiences and the nature of their memories. This is so far the only thing I have read by Divajaruni but I look forward to reading more of her work this year!
22.Reality is Not What it Seems by Carlo Rovelli
Rovelli is an Italian theoretical physicist and this book is a great deal about the history of the science evolving as well as about time and black holes. I have to admit, there was quite a bit I learned but also quite a bit I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. What the book left me feeling is oddly calm, however. Because, since Trump became president, I’ve had a real strong sense that we are all trapped in a black hole of some sort and this basically confirmed some of my suspicions. Now, if I could just get to a different alternative reality where someone like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is president….perhaps, we’re at least headed in the correct direction, though.
23.Electric Arches by Eve L. Ewing
It was such an honor to see Ewing speak as part of the Chicago Humanities Festival this year and such a wonderful thing for Chicago that this extremely talented poet, graphic novelist, and nonfiction writer resides here. This collection of poetry really speaks to growing up on Chicago’s south side in the 1990s but it’s so much more than that. It’s an important collection of poetry not just because of Eve L. Ewing’s voice but because of the strength of her words and imagery. My only disappointment with this is that it wasn’t longer so I could keep reading.
Eve L. Ewing also just published a nonfiction work, Ghosts in the Schoolyard, covering the closure of 50 public schools that Rahm Emanuel imposed as one of his very first acts as mayor. This is probably one of the most important books that was written this year but I haven’t read it yet (which is horrible, I know). It’s a little too close to home for me as I remember with horror all of the striking and the aftermath from this from the fake community meetings (literally set up by Charter school profiteers to gather information) I attended to all of the marches in the streets. In one of the most horrible things, the “welcoming schools” that were taking in students from the closing schools had no information on the students with disabilities showing up. Working with students who are nonverbal and have severe autism, some of these students couldn’t even tell us their names and so we couldn’t look them up in the system to even know their allergies and medical precautions. Most people are familiar with making children cross gang lines, I realize, which is also horrific, but this was something that also haunts me still today. In any case, people need to realize how damaging to a community it is when public schools are not supported and kids are placed in danger.
24.Feel Free by Zadie Smith
I am really impressed by the range of topics these essays address, though I would have loved more political essays. Zadie Smith does have an insightful essay on Brexit but she also talks a great deal about her parents, Italy, and such a huge variety of art between paintings and films as well as meeting famous actors and musicians. Never before did I think I would come across a selection of essays about Anomalisa and Get Out for example and also she wrote an essay on Christian Marclay’s The Clock. There’s something here for everyone, basically.
25.Memoirs of a Polar Bear by Yoko Tawada
I felt haunted and a dream like state reading this book written from the perspective of a polar bear. Between zoos and circuses and effortless wandering, it seems we are all, in some ways, polar bears, meditating on existence itself. I felt like I could be a human being and a polar bear at the same time.
www.nytimes.com/2016/11/25/books/review/memoirs-of-a-pola...
26. Three Daughters of Eve by Elif Shafak
This novel is a thrilling mix of the personal and the political by this Turkish author. It really looks at the ideas behind religion and class struggle in an insightful way with a riveting plot that goes back and forth between present day and when the main protagonist was going to college.
27 .God Loves Haiti by Dimitry Elias Léger
I really hope we get more from Léger as this is story telling at its finest….an earthquake, a love story, a hideout, and a sense o heavy life choices with different protagonists each strong affected by the earthquake that occurs here. It’s interesting to use the earthquake that happens at the very beginning as the stimulus to drive the rest of the plot but it works well here. One senses that, earthquake or no, each life choice matters greatly.
observer.com/2015/01/on-the-page-god-loves-haiti-is-a-stu...
28.Speak No Evil by Uzodinma Iweala
This novel does such a good job of exploring white hypocrisy as well as highlighting the difficulties of being an immigrant in America and being gay in a culture that is homophobic. The male protagonist in this story is forced to go back to Nigeria in order to be freed from his homosexual “affliction” but has to deal with his own troubles back in America in terms of racial profiling and police brutality. This is a story that could happen today easily and we should all make sure it doesn’t.
www.theguardian.com/books/2018/feb/20/speak-no-evil-uzodi...
29. The Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery
This affected me more than I thought it would. I am vegan, sure, but I’ve never really been all that fascinated by marine life (nor have I ever wanted to eat any kind of seafood) and I really felt the strong sense of empathy between Sy and the octopuses she writes about as well as the journey she takes overall in terms of understanding them. The empathy she feels and the strong sense of personality and intelligence she senses should not be ignored. I found myself by the end of this wondering aloud how I often do when it comes to many animals…how could anyone eat such a lovely living creature?
symontgomery.com/soul-of-an-octopus/
30. The Secrets Between Us by Thrity Umrigar
All of Umrigar’s books are fantastic and this isn’t even my favorite of hers to be honest-The World We Found is the one I like best. But, this is still a fantastic story set in India this time about making unlikely friends and survival, it’s about living under a rigid caste system as well and hints at some changes taking place slowly but surely with time and access to higher education. It’s also about apologies and redemption. Btw, Thrity is a wonderful speaker to see if you get the chance.
Honorable Mentions:
Short story collections I loved this year include Ted Chiang’s Stories of Your Life and Others, N.K. Jemisin’s How Long ‘TIL Black Future Month? Friday Black by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah, Sour Heart by Jenny Zhang, and Revenge by Yoko Ogawa. I also liked most of Carmen Maria Muchado’s Her Body and Other Parties. I also found Valeria Luiselli’s Tell Me How it Ends: An Essay in 40 Questions informative and valuable but I thought it needed to be much longer. Hanif Abdurraqib’s They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us essays on music was also really well written and offered interesting insights into music and culture and W. Kamau Bell’s Awkward Thoughts had me thinking about race in a different way AND had me, at times laughing with his very geeky but cool sense of humor. I also really loved the graphic novel, Saga.
In a remark extraordinary even by the standards of conservative talk show host Rush Limbaugh, the right-wing radio heavyweight declared on his program Wednesday that the United States needed to return to racially segregated buses.
Referring to an incident in which a white student was beaten by black students on a bus, Limbaugh said: “I think the guy’s wrong. I think not only it was racism, it was justifiable racism. I mean, that’s the lesson we’re being taught here today. Kid shouldn’t have been on the bus anyway. We need segregated buses — it was invading space and stuff. This is Obama’s America.”
A full transcript of Limbaugh’s comments on his radio show is available at MediaMatters.org.
Limbaugh’s comments came after a called complained to say that local law enforcement said the attack probably wasn’t racially motivated. The incident had been hyped by the conservative Drudge Report, which posted a video of the fracas.
“Police initially said the beating of the white student by two black students appeared to be racially motivated,” the Associated Press wrote. “But police on Tuesday backed away from that.”
That didn’t stop Limbaugh from making his comments Wednesday.
“In Obama’s America, the white kids now get beat up with the black kids cheering, ‘Yay, right on, right on, right on, right on,” Limbaugh also said. “I wonder if Obama’s going to come to come to the defense of the assailants the way he did his friend Skip Gates up there at Harvard.”
source: rawstory.com/08/news/2009/09/17/limbaugh-we-need-segregat...
Exploring, the beauty of the past, all else is left to Imagination.
Get my new Book Timeless 3 here
Order my new Calendar Lost 2024 here
follow me on facebook and instagram
Get Prints, books and stuff here.
Find my books www.urbexery.com/shop
stop to hypocrisies
stop to pretending
stop to things that don't work
stop to giving 100 and getting10
stop to you being unsatisfied with me
stop to the stress that this gives me
stop to thinking to your home as mine
stop to the songs i listen dreamin'of you
stop to the fear. your fear.
stop to taking me for granted
ten stop.
..and us
“I hope you have not been leading a double life, pretending to be wicked and being good all the time. That would be hypocrisy.”-Oscar Wilde
ꒌ НЕКАД ЈЕ БИЛО БОЉЕ, а за оно пре нашег НЕКАД није нас много брига.
► █░▓ BETTER LOUSY PAST than bad present! - it's the philosophy of my generation born in Serbia. On the surface, hypocrisy appears to make things worse today than they had been yesterday. The Old isn't comfortable with Today - The Old doesn't remember the double standards of its “innocent” youth, it just remembers the youthful optimism of that day and age...
Many Belgrade's streets have been renamed during transition period 1990-2010, but the change wasn’t always to everyone's taste. The socialist names appear ever-so-attractive to a generation that hasn't lived to see the promise of eternal life in communist paradise. Their old age has betrayed them, not Marx & Engels. So, the culprit they don't see in the one who fed them false promises in the first place, but in that one who in recent times represents the after-shave disappointment and disillusions. My generation has identified it's youth with the downright silly, idiot names of Party congresses and leaders. The older folks though remembered the violence and idiocy of mindless dictate and identity wash. The least painful of all being the rename of everything in the public space. But those guys who remembered are already passing away. Almost no living witnesses any more.
Heavy burden the commies have left is a lasting one. Almost the kind of a pre-meditated, deliberate, irreparably inflicted damage. It spans the ages: it even includes the shallow downgraded cultural standards of today's uneducated rulers who took it over. The smallest example: This official cyrillic font for the street name is downright ugly, with no awareness for the role of applied arts, the specific typography needed for public spaces etc. It stands on one of the busiest crossroads in town. There are several typefaces and designs used throughout the city, contributing to a tale-telling chaos. This chaos is mirroring the general lack of concept and taste.
Almost paradoxically, the mindset of the tradition destroyers becomes even more obvious now when the consequences are brought to their end. The heavy destruction protagonists of the 1940s/1950s/1960s have now their makeshift successors at the steering wheel, lacking skills and will to re-establish what had been annihilated. So much less do they have potential to create something original, new and authentic. The real new emerging culture is a counter-movement, consisting of tiny individual islands isolated in the sea of copycat lackluster mediocrity.
The cameraphone capture edited in Snapseed app.
~SHORTCUTS~ Press [F11] and [L] key to engage Full Screen (Light box) mode with black background - press the same key or [Esc] to return. Press [F] to "Like" (Fave), press [C] to comment.
Acrylique sur papier 300g texture toile
2024
30x40cm
Inspiré de la chanson : Hypocrisy - They will arrive
Site: www.bettinadupont.fr
With rising political tension between Iran and the West nowadays, this could be the right moment to show how beautiful and peaceful the soul of the Iranian people really is. Don't let the media fool you. Iranians will embrace you with the most embarrassing hospitality you might ever encounter.
Khwāja Šamsu d-Dīn Muḥammad Hāfez-e Šhīrāzī (Persian: خواجه شمسالدین محمد حافظ شیرازی), known by his pen name Hāfez (1325/26–1389/90) was a Persian lyric poet. His collected works composed of series of Persian poetry (Divan) are to be found in the homes of most Iranians, who learn his poems by heart and use them as proverbs and sayings to this day. His life and poems have been the subject of much analysis, commentary and interpretation, influencing post-Fourteenth Century Persian writing more than any other author. Themes of his ghazals are the beloved, faith, and exposing hypocrisy. His influence in the lives of Iranians can be found in Hafez-readings (fāl-e hāfez, Persian: فال حافظ), frequent use of his poems in Persian traditional music, visual art and Persian calligraphy. His tomb in Shiraz is a masterpiece of Iranian architecture and visited often. Adaptations, imitations and translations of Hafez' poems exist in all major languages.
The Tomb of Hafez and its associated memorial hall, the Hāfezieh, are two memorial structures erected in the northern edge of Shiraz, Iran, in memory of the celebrated Persian poet Hafez. The open pavilion structures are situated in the Musalla Gardens on the north bank of a seasonal river and house the marble tomb of Hafez. The present buildings, built in 1935 and designed by the French architect and archaeologist André Godard, are at the site of previous structures, the most well-known of which was built in 1773. The tomb, its gardens, and the surrounding memorials to other great figures are a focus of tourism in Shiraz.
Hafez was born in Shiraz in 1315 and died there in 1390. A beloved figure of the Iranian people, who learn his verses by heart, Hafez was prominent in his home town and held a position as the court poet. In his memory, a small, dome-like structure was erected in Shiraz near his grave at Golgast-e Mosalla in 1452 at the order of Babur Ibn-Baysunkur, a Timurid governor. The Golgast-e Mosalla were gardens (now known as Musalla Gardens) that featured in Hafiz's poetry. With a surface of over 19,000 square metres, the gardens were also home to one of Shiraz's cemeteries, and Babur had a pool built here at the same time as the memorial. Believing they were ordered by omens in Hafez's poetry, Abbas I of Persia and Nader Shah both carried out separate restoration projects in the following 300 years.
A much more substantial memorial was constructed in the gardens in 1773 during the reign of Karim Khan Zand. Situated on the north bank of the seasonal Rudkhaneye Khoshk river in the Musalla Gardens, the Hāfezieh consisted of four central columns, with two rooms built at the east and west end and with the north and south sides remaining open. The building split the gardens into two regions, with the orange grove in the front and the cemetery in the back. The actual tomb was outside of the structure, in the middle of the cemetery, with a marble slab placed over the grave. The marble was engraved by a calligrapher with excerpts from Hafez's poetry.
The tomb was restored in 1857 by a governor of Fars, and a wooden enclosure was built around the tomb in 1878, by another governor of Fars. Following this, the site became a subject of controversy, when, in 1899, Ardeshir, a Parsi from India began to build a shrine around Hafez's grave. Although the philanthropist Parsi had obtained permission from a ulema of Shiraz to build the iron and wood shrine, a doctor of religious law with some authority in Shiraz, ʿAli-Akbar Fāl-Asiri, objected to a Zoroastrian building over the grave of a Muslim. With his followers, he destroyed the half-built construction. The people of Shiraz protested the destruction and the government ordered the rebuilding of the monument, but Fāl-Asiri opposed them and pronounced that he would destroy any building raised there, even if it were erected by the king himself.
The site remained in ruins for two years, until 1901 when Prince Malek Mansur Mirza Shao es-Saltaneh placed a decorative iron transenna around Hafez's tomb. It was inscribed with verse and the names of the patrons of the transenna.
Activities to restore and expand the memorial to Hafez began in 1931, when the orange grove was repaired and the Hāfezieh was altered by a governor of Fars and Isfahan, Faraj-Allāh Bahrāmi Dabir-e Aʿẓam. Additional improvements were delayed until the Ministry of Education organised for a new building to be built, in 1935. André Godard, a French archaeologist and architect, was the technical director of the Department of Antiquities at the time, and was commissioned to design the new buildings.
Alterations to Hafez's tomb involved elevating it one metre above ground level and encircling it with five steps. Eight columns, each ten metres tall, support a copper dome in the shape of a dervish's hat. The underside of the dome is an arabesque and colourful mosaic. The original, four-columned memorial hall built in 1773 by Karim Khan Zand was extensively expanded. Sixteen pillars were added to the four original, creating a long verandah, and on several façades are engraved ghazals and other excerpts from Hafez's poetry.
a most illusive reality! why? I enjoy the holidays but can't help thinking about the hypocrisy. Maybe next year more will spread some love all year round!! Merry Christmas my friends!!
Bruno: Dave, what's that?
Dave: A Christmas tree. Something we do to celebrate the Christmas season.
Bruno: Nope. Totally disagree. Looks like an organized pile of sticks to me.
Dave: That is one perspective.
Bruno: And you know how I feel about sticks.
Dave: Yup, I realize that you're a big fan of them.
Bruno: And I'm now so happy that you've reversed the no sticks inside policy for the Christmas season! This is going to be the best year ever!
Dave: Dude, the no sticks inside policy still stands. This is just here as a decoration. It's going to look great once we finish hanging the ornaments on it.
Bruno: What ornaments?
Dave: You know: angels, stars, crafts the kids made, tinsel, sparkly balls.
Bruno: Dude! Did you just say balls! There are going to be balls on this organized pile of sticks! Best holiday ever!
Dave: Oh man, the no chewing household decoration policy is still in full effect.
Bruno: Good luck with that. Good luck.
-----------
Christmas wishes from Bruno while trimming the tree. No trees, ornaments or dogs were harmed in this process.
Couldn't help but have some fun with the text on this one. Part of the studio 26 assignment on gifts/cards etc for the holidays.
I wasn't planning on using this one for my 52 weeks photo as it is tribute week, and I had selected some photos I wanted to tribute, then did some background research and got the props ready. But, when this one came together I knew it had to be part of his set. I'll hit the tribute early next week.
It's utterly inexplicable when people celebrate the fact that they're aging and simultaneously mourning death. Doesn't that rhyme with hypocrisy?
Random musings.
oh, Happy New Year.
although it's very nice here now, this morning it looked like this. the wheather can be weird sometimes
this one made explore!! best position: 2!!!!!!
thank you all for your comments and faves and the views!!
I was running away from the world of hypocrisy.. refusing all fake souls and looking for my soul mate fantasy: YOU.. Well it is strange but yup, sometimes you just don't plan anything, but out of nowhere you meet this someone, someone to whom you feel that you really belong.. You just see how wondeful his whole soul is, pure and clear like a crystal water droplet.. i don't know if i am right or mistaken, but the thing i am sure of: is that i don't wanna run away anymore! -- Widad
College girls filming a TikTok video ("school project") see a guy clearly photographing people on jetskis and party boats and ask him not to photograph them even though it is apparent he had no intention to do so. The same college girls continue to film their TikTok video with hundreds of people walking through it without asking them if they want to appear in the video or not...
Investigations Brief
While Shell’s ads feature pristine wildernesses, happy fish, and flowering smoke stacks, Shell continues to poison the people that live near its operations, rapidly expand the most destructive oil extraction operations, and increase its greenhouse gas emissions. Meanwhile, Shell is also trying to influence the climate policy debate, with targeted policy recommendations and thousands of dollars in lobby funding.
Background
Royal Dutch Shell is a multinational oil company with British and Dutch origins. It is one of the largest private sector energy corporations in the world, with its main business being exploration for and production, distribution and marketing of oil and gas . With 104,000 employees in more than 110 countries, the company claims to play a key role in helping to meet the world’s gherowing demand for energy in economically, environmentally and socially responsible ways [1]. Last year Shell made over $31B in profits, which amounts to $85M in profits every day [2].
Campaign Details
Shell oil spends millions promoting an image of environmental responsibility and innovation. Shell ads talk about cleaning the air and water, and use environmental images to promote its products. The company is exaggerating its environmental claims, while diverting attention away from its dirty and destructive core business.
The Outcome
Shell continues to spend millions on green advertising messages, while also continuing to devastate the plant and lobby Congress and the White House.
* Source: Greenpeace.org
.... Climate Hypocrisy
This is an oil major that has lobbied the EU against clean energy regulations that would boost the uptake of electric vehicles. Shell, along with BP are in fact the top two biggest lobbyists in Europe spending a combined sum of nearly £6 million over the past two years to influence policy.
Shell is also an oil company whose R&D and renewable arm budgets are far dwarfed by the scale of its fossil fuels business. Shell invests $1.3 billion a year on R&D and last year consolidated its renewables projects into a new division that has a capital investment of $1.7 billion – breaking down into $200 million per year capital expenditure.
These are tiny slices of the investment pie when considered against the $30bn Shell pumps into oil and gas.
Shell is also one of the oil majors investing in a climate fund which analysts say is seriously undersized compared to the urgency and scale of tackling manmade global warming and its impacts.
The oil giant is undertaking all of these actions – also previously setting out its vision for a 2 degrees world – but its business model and strategy still doesn’t proportionately line up with the size of the issue of climate change....
Source: desmog.co.uk
Greenwash: Shell betrays 'new energy future' promises by Fred Pearce
The energy company has sold out on its renewable investments, claiming they are 'not economic'
Source: theguardian.com
Thank you for viewing. If you like please fav and leave a nice comment. Hope to see you here again. Have a wonderful day 😊
Brighton 🇬🇧
July, 2018
When fabric slides into ankle craters
What we shed
is never merely cloth
The 3.7cm arch of toes
is a temporary armistice
signed between flesh
and the gravitational field of bedsheets
but the entire summer's silence
stitched into lace
📷 MamiyaC330S
And now for something completely different...
Some of you may remember previous uploaded images of Jan Johnson's wonderful and bizarre Purgatory Garden. Jan was a friend: a Vietnam vet, metal sculptor extraordinaire, and much more, who died in 2011. Part of his art process was collecting junk; I believe he found inspiration for his creative exploration of war, poverty, religious and political hypocrisy, and the other themes he explored via art, in the detritus of society. He found and was given hundreds of dolls and children's toys over the years, and many of these he placed in strategic locations on his five acres of west coast rainforest, to allow the elements to transform them. His was an unconventional vision of decay that could be examined and interpreted on many levels. One thing is for certain: he was not afraid to look squarely at things that make some of us squirm with discomfort.
I began photographing his dolls and related junk in 1993. I also photographed his formal works, the ones that went into art galleries and private collections, and this culminated with the 2016 publication of Irony In Steel, a book celebrating his life work. I still have a soft spot for the dolls, however. This includes a dozen or more mannequins, delivered anonymously one day and left in his driveway.
In the time since Jan's death - almost a decade now - there has been no "replenishing" of the raw material in his Purgatory Garden. The forest is swallowing many of his offerings. Two Barbies disappeared into a tree some years ago; the wood just grew around them. Last year I managed one brief visit during my BC trip - late one afternoon, operating in deep shade beneath tall trees - and have only now begun processing. I decided - for no good reason except liking the look - to convert the latest images to b&w and then add a blue wash in Photoshop. Taking the natural colour out might create a bit of distance; I don't know. Some may find these a tad disturbing; others may be able to see some underlying humour. Jan's frame of mind about these was mostly gleeful. He knew he was pushing the limits of good taste. He was happy that I could appreciate this stuff with him.
I promise I'll get back to my usual nature-based photos in a few days.
Photographed in the Purgatory Garden, Sooke, BC (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2019 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
It has all been said before.
This picture is of a monument dedicated to William Cooper, who in his lifetime achieved much. Please see his Wiki page, try typing in William Cooper Australian, and in contrast here is a link to a national Australian education page adb.anu.edu.au/biography/cooper-william-5773 . Interesting reading when doing a critical comparison, and one of many stimuli for this dairy entry.
(Musings from my diary.)
Despite my office 365-word processor giving me 100% editorial rating after correcting this writing, l recorrected my diary entry, so that it scores lower. I recorrected my dairy entry after rereading it, so it was more accurate. l think office 365-word is incredible, and l will admit that it did help me, but l needed to write my observations as untainted as possible… If that is at all achievable. This is not an argumentative essay, and office 365 had me talking in absolutes, defining a majority when I was discussing the influence of a minority over the majority. A personal consideration of current day hypocrisy and war.
Well, it is my diary!
Why is it so important to be apolitical when reporting on politics?
Personally, l feel that if a person reads the above question and does not know, they might have missed critically observing the last ten or so years of social division, and extremism, from both the right and left. Extremism that has cost lives and revealed ugly truths. I think as an Australian looking from geographical isolation at the world, everything might be a lot easier while viewing it all at a distance, and with hindsight. It leaves me a bit ignorant, but l think that helps with my objectivity.
Why did it happen? The causation was like a hydra, with multiple self-replicating heads, and it was like watching a social media battle between school children who had never been hurt in the real world. Not the type of hurt that you get when you metaphorically fall, skin your knee, and get back up, but the type you get when you enter a fight, get brutalised, and lose. Bones and tissue crushed by an opponent driven by a hatred so strong that they would injure you, another human being. Was it caused by people who had never learned that to enter a fight is to risk everything? That to fight is a last resort? This lack of political and social experience cost some their friends, loved ones, and others, members of their families. But it raised in me a question. Despite the efforts of the well-meaning, what did they achieve?
America the crucible for everything, descended into something that some would call near anarchy. Some on the left assumed both fascist and anarchist tendencies that go back to the 1930s, all the while not reading the social and political history of pre-World War Two Germany. That would have been militaristic and did not serve the narrative. A narrative produced to generate a political outcome. Could they have committed the errors of the past if they had read it? Given to wide a birth, media extremists influenced millions with emotive prompting. On the other hand, some on the right looking for relief from the relentless onslaught, sold out. Losing patience, self-fortitude, and political integrity. They reduced the work of their group’s past into a parody. Debasing the history of men and woman who had really made a positive impact. Like two spoilt children in the new education system, no one could suggest or admit that they had done wrong, while the media produced single sided political narratives, but in general did not report.
Political moderates and swinging voters pondered when it would end, while living in perpetual despair. Watching a school yard fight that had descended into a riot, one that involved the media as a cheer squad for two opposing sides. The radicalized media would not allow moderates to be objective, you had to be either a right-wing neo fascist or a left-wing neo fascist, with the spectre of your personal anarchy to drive your decision. You had to take a side. The mainstream media had descended into a form of politically opportunistic rhetoric, as if it had learnt the lessons of the sixties, but this time, it was not a foreign war, it was a form of civil war at home. One thankfully that lacked major armed war fare. Thankfully, the military were not involved. All credit due, but it left western law prostrate. The law could not be consensually blind. It was not a peaceful protest, people did not thread flowers down barrels of guns pointed at them in acts of peace, and monks did not self-immolate, producing images that moved millions to peace. Some asking for peace and equality, did the opposite, mostly peaceful protestors tried to immolate others. They tried repeatedly to incinerate living humans. It was shocking. The sixties saw the west implement peaceful protest, and we all saw how effective it was at causing change, but in the last decade those that referenced the sixties insighted indirectly by narrative omission the used Molotov cocktails and violence. Peaceful protest is notoriously difficult to combat, as the law was and is hamstrung with misdemeanours, aided by the images of people not harming others. But this new form of western protest differed. Who needs a little naked burnt Vietnamese girl running down the road to achieve peace, when you can try to incinerate a people, to force for peace? Simultaneously, the right with extraordinarily little representation outside of the lumbering behemoth of Fox, surrendered to social media, a place where the Kardashians once ruled. Quite a historical event. History was made, if you realise that one of the reasons for the development of the internet, was as a military defence system. One designed and built to defend communications, if all else failed. It was a war in which both sides lost, but extremism gained power. Media integrity on both sides was and is running ragged, with no one prepared to fly their flags at half-mast, to mourn the distress of western communications. Distress caused by the media’s dissemination of radicalized neo right-wing and neo left-wing politically biased narratives. Narratives enforced by wilful omissions of blatant historical truths and current day conduct.
The result was that America regardless of political persuasion had failed to successfully defend the constitution, not the second amendment, but the principle of the constitution. It was America’s greatest failing over the last ten years, but they were not alone in this failure. With the use of the internet and the world media, the world failed to defend the principle of a document that 620,000 lost their lives for, and it destabilized the world. A document that was purported by some in the world media as an antiquated inadequate document, neglecting the principle that all men are equal before the law, but not created equal. This consideration made me reflect heavily on me experience of university. The adage was, “…That the best you can do, is stand on the shoulders of giants….” And I wondered how a person could neglect the work and sacrifice of those that had built humanity. Institutions promoted as being pacifist and educated, institutions built to serve everyone, now indirectly instigated violence. In this new form of civil war, where was Hans Blix to say no weapons of mass destruction are to be found? Was this modern achievement, achieved by children, now adults, whose parents had lied to them? Where these the children that had been told they could do anything, or become anyone? It raised in me the rhetorical questions, did the neo right, and neo left media, use a military grade apparatus to wage a war? And had everyone forgot that the pen is mightier than the sword, and thus just as dangerous?
History education starts at school, and I personally had experienced the new education system as a stepfather here in Australia. When it comes to educating children, the new system that fails no one, has become a system that has already failed. How can you learn history, and think critically, if you cannot read? I considered the potential political motives for the instigation of an education system that does not indiscriminately educate, but selectively indoctrinates. I thought that it was an effective tool for maintaining power. It is something l heard about the church. Someone had told me that the church had only allowed priests to read the bible in Latin. It is said that this practice allowed those in positions of power to quote verse, and interpret codes of conduct, for those under them. It kept those who could not read Latin ignorant. This is an activity, that has now been banned by the church. It appears that the new education system has now adopted a similar practice. As a result, the education system, now has a new ignorant flock to shepherd. What happens when the history channel algorithms or sponsored feeds, have turned into a political shill? Yes, even history, is not apolitical. I think someone, somewhere, had read the adage, that “…those that win the war, write the history…” Ironically, someone was ignorant enough, not to know that it was not a term of endearment, nor did this fact entitle the writer a position of everlasting power. Ironically, people postured one position, and then did the reverse. Some in the media left and right, assumed what some would call, a militaristic imperialistic mode, using their viewers, fans, and their audience as cannon fodder. Driving them with politically vested rhetoric and association, to achieve a political end. Both sides looked for someone to blame other than themselves, or looked for someone other than themselves to pay.
Fascists once did this, now neo liberals and neo conservatives in the media looked for a group to classify as mentally deficient or ill. The mob had to become the populous, classifying the opposition as inferior. Someone to other, someone internally to blame for all the world’s problems. The language from both sides was remarkably familiar. It had all happened before. But on the media chanted like zealots, willingly oblivious to history like a petulant child, and it resulted in deaths. Instead of reporting, the media sold themselves to become a self-pontified populist political cheer squad of indoctrination. In this communications war, some in the media’s right, and some in the media’s left, had surrendered to a form of self-serving political prostitution. It produced 1930s like self-cannibalism. The radicalized political media’s appetite to feed their opposing mob’s zest, could not be quenched. They ate their own, seeing who could jeer the loudest, while destroying the integrity of all the institutions that surrounded them. Neo right, and neo left, used 1930s fascist language and influence, while relying on others to apply anarchy as the vector for change, thus negating any personal responsibility for death and violence.
I think back, and to be honest, what the west in the majority lacked, was apolitical reporting. The result over the last ten years, was that we had all lost. In a political war of words where the media became the protagonists, the west did not just sacrifice its integrity and dignity, the west surrendered lives.
Incompetence is their Pride,
Muddle is their Habit,
Hypocrisy is their Creed.
They are everything and it’s opposite. They are…
The Government of Change.
This image is the preview for an upcoming parody story loosely (actually not-so-loosely) inspired by the new Italian government, the self-defined “Government of Change”.
I know the majority of you who live far away from my Country may have little interest in this image but I feel the moral imperative to make this kind of satire and I thank you for your understanding.
I do believe political satire is an essential part of Democracy and given the current “turbulent” state of Italian politics I’d feel a coward if I simply hide my head in the sand.
I won’t write a wall of text today but let me tell you just one thing. Don’t believe when their propaganda says this is the “Government of the People”. The party that got about 32% of the votes allied with a party that got the 17% despite the fact they openly attacked each other before, during and after the elections.
The party with the 17% of the votes was even part of different coalition: they run with it, took some more seats from the alliance and then they allied with the other party. Basically the first party hadn’t the majority so they allied with those who arrived third; even though they define themselves “alternative to each other”.
Long story short: they “exploited” the system.
To make things even weirder the minority party de facto controls the government since the party that got the 32% of votes does exactly what the minority party orders.
So much for “Government of the People”.
Thank You for your understanding: I’m aware for many of you this is of little interest so I appreciate the fact you stopped by to look at my “moral imperative”.
Anyway I hope you like the Minfigures :) Mattie the Hater Minifigure is particularly interesting hehe :)
May the Brick be with You :)
Walking past the monstrosity of the county council offices this morning, I appreciated the small wildflower areas that have been planted in the pockets of land not devoted to what once might have been decorative brickwork. The hypocrisy of this when the countryside is considered prime land for exploitation through housing developments is stark.
The Mount Rushmore National Memorial is a national memorial centered on a colossal sculpture carved into the granite face of Mount Rushmore (Lakota: Tȟuŋkášila Šákpe, or Six Grandfathers) in the Black Hills near Keystone, South Dakota, United States. The sculptor, Gutzon Borglum, named it the Shrine of Democracy, and oversaw the execution from 1927 to 1941 with the help of his son, Lincoln Borglum. The sculpture features the 60-foot-tall (18 m) heads of four United States presidents: George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln, chosen to represent the nation's birth, growth, development, and preservation. Mount Rushmore attracts more than two million visitors annually to the memorial park which covers 1,278 acres (2.00 sq mi; 5.17 km2). The mountain's elevation is 5,725 feet (1,745 m) above sea level.
Borglum chose Mount Rushmore in part because it faces southeast for maximum sun exposure. The carving was the idea of Doane Robinson, a historian for the state of South Dakota. Robinson originally wanted the sculpture to feature American West heroes, such as Lewis and Clark, their expedition guide Sacagawea, Oglala Lakota chief Red Cloud, Buffalo Bill Cody, and Oglala Lakota chief Crazy Horse. Borglum chose the four presidents instead.
Peter Norbeck, U.S. senator from South Dakota, sponsored the project and secured federal funding. Construction began in 1927 and the presidents' faces were completed between 1934 and 1939. After Gutzon Borglum died in March 1941, his son Lincoln took over as leader of the construction project. Each president was originally to be depicted from head to waist, but lack of funding forced construction to end on October 31, 1941, and only Washington's sculpture includes any detail below chin level.
The sculpture at Mount Rushmore is built on land that was illegally taken from the Sioux Nation in the 1870s. The Sioux continue to demand return of the land, and in 1980 the US Supreme Court ruled in United States v. Sioux Nation of Indians that the taking of the Black Hills required just compensation, and awarded the tribe $102 million. The Sioux have refused the money, and demand the return of the land. This conflict continues, leading some critics of the monument to refer to it as a "Shrine of Hypocrisy".
On Monday 12 August 2024, the Palestine Solidarity Committee (PSC) organised an emergency protest opposite Downing Street, the office and home of the UK's Pro-Zionist ("without qualification") Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer.
novaramedia.com/2024/07/03/what-would-keir-starmer-as-pri...
Several hundred attended the rally and there were speeches by former Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn,
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibvVFINJ7Rk
as well as by PSC director Ben Jamal and Palestine's ambassador to the United Kingdom, Husam Zomlot.
The protest was called following the Israeli bombing of yet another school in Gaza, again with catastrophic consequences. Early on the previous Saturday morning Israel had fired three missiles at the Al Tabeen school which killed at least 93 people and possibly many more, although the power of the explosions and subsequent fire was so intense that in many cases it was difficult or impossible to recognise the dead from the jumble of body parts.
Attempts by Gaza's emergency responders to put out the fire, which followed the explosions, were hindered by Israel having cut off the area's water supply. The school had been sheltering around 6000 displaced Gazans, including many women, children and old people.
US news network CNN reported that Saturday's attack was "the fifth on a school in Gaza by the Israeli military since last Sunday." CNN also reported that based on analysis of film of the debris, Israel had used at least one US manufactured GBU-39 bomb in the strike.
edition.cnn.com/2024/08/10/middleeast/israeli-school-stri...
Israel claimed it had targeted and killed 20 Hamas militants, with IDF (Israeli Defence Force) spokesman Daniel Hagari adding that "The IDF conducted a precision strike against the terrorists in one specific building of the compound—according to our intelligence, no women and children were present," although neither he nor the Israeli government offered any credible evidence to back these claims.
***********************************************
A creative commons PHOTO LICENSE for COMMERCIAL USE for this photo is AVAILABLE for over eighty NGOs and socialist or progressive publications which are listed on the link below
Although this image is being posted on an attribution noncommercial share alike basis CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 DEED, the following organisations and publications listed on the link below are also welcome to reproduce it even if it is for commercial purposes. However please publish the image on the same attribution noncommercial share alike basis. For more info or if any other organisation, person or publication wishes to publish this photo on a commercial basis please email me at alisdare@gmail.com.
المنافق لنفسه مداهن و على النّاس طاعن.
من اقوال الامام علي سلام الله عليه
==============
Technical specs :
Camera:Canon EOS Digital Rebel XTi
Exposure: 1/160 sec
Aperture:f/8
Focal Length:100 mm
ISO Speed:100
Flash: fired
The Path to Happiness
If we want to be truly happy, we must engage in the practice of serving God. In the Vedas this process is called bhakti-yoga, or connecting with the Supreme Lord by serving Him. By considering His happiness first, a person automatically becomes happy and peaceful. He does not harm other creatures, be they animals or humans, and as a result he can live peacefully with all.
Devotion to God has three stages of development: the stage of practice, the stage of awakening spiritual ecstasy, and the stage of fully blossomed ecstasy called pure love.
To achieve pure love, we begin at the stage of practice. In this age of quarrel and hypocrisy, called Kali-yuga, the most powerful spiritual practice and the best method to find happiness is to chant the name of the Supreme Lord. His name is non-different from Him and it contains all of His potencies as well as His sweet forms and pastimes. This will be realized fully at the stage of pure love. Chanting the holy name of God cleanses the heart of all unhealthy desires and tendencies, leaving one feeling tranquil and connected to Him.
Las canciones sirven para muchas cosas.
Los lenguajes sirven para muchas cosas.
Las redes sociales sirven para muchas cosas.
Flickr sirve para muchas cosas.
La hipocresía sirve para muchas cosas.
Las mesas sirven para muchas cosas.
¿Quién sirve la mesa?
Dentro y fuera de cualquier red social, dentro y fuera de Flickr, dentro y fuera.
# # #
Songs serve for many things.
Languages serve for many things.
Social networks serve for many things.
Flickr serves for many things.
Hypocrisy serves for many things.
Tables serve for many things.
Who serves the table?
Inside and outside any social network, inside and outside Flickr, inside and outside.
# # #
Hypocrisy & Communication series