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Wallet and Watch Combo

2023.06.06 11:25 mymentorz Wallet and Watch Combo

Wallet and Watch Combo

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2023.06.06 08:01 menswomenfashion Reasons Why You Need Sling Bags for Men

These days, men are becoming more fashionable by the day and this is why there is such an urgent need for a bag for them. This need is on the rise as well. Men normally want a bag that is not too big or too small. It should ideally fit closely with their bodies and it must be safe as well. This is where sling bags can be such a good option for them. Here we would talk about the reasons why you would need these bags.
They are of the right size
Men often face issues in getting the right bag for themselves because the ones that they get are either too small or too big. We all know how popular bum bags are but the problem with them is that they are too small. This means that if you need to accommodate any more than a wallet and a key in them you could be facing a problem. You could also get a backpack on the other hand but they could be too big for you and thus they would not be the right option to carry your daily essentials.
A sling bag would be the right option for you in this case.
They would fit like a glove
This is yet another area where they differ from the likes of rucksacks. They are normally worn across your body. Some of these bags also come with the option of being worn in front of the body or at the back. The great thing about these bags is that they are not bulky or heavy. Nobody wants a bag that is bulky and, thus, impractical. People want the items that they wear to be comfortable and also look good. The thing with sling bags is that they would fit your body like a glove.
Conclusion
There are several other reasons that we can cite in this particular context. These bags are always on trend. They may not be new as such but over the years they have become rather popular. It also helps that you get these bags at different price points. You can also use these bags every day of your life. If you want to avail yourself of the benefits that you get from these bags – the ones we have talked about so far – it is important that you get them from the best brands such as Wildcraft.
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2023.06.06 02:57 Hanhonhon Does Andrew Jackson deserve to be a bottom 10 president?

I'll be honest, I had Andrew Jackson as a bottom 10 president for a long time but after considering his impact it makes me consider otherwise. I'm going to list his pros and cons, and say issues that can be interpreted as either. I don't like Jackson so I'm biased, but if there's anything that I am wrong about in the recall of events please say so. And you're not a bad person for thinking he was a good president

Pros:

First of all Jackson was the first "common man" president which was absolutely huge in the American public identifying themselves with political figures and participating in it. America in the beginning was an oligarchy where white men with property could vote but the Jacksonian era was a major push to include all white males 21 and up which included millions of people
You can argue that it led to increased white supremacy in the states (which I believe was going to persist anyway), it was a massive push for democracy. I would say this is his biggest accomplishment
Despite Jackson being pro-states rights on a lot of things, the South Carolina dispute showed that the States can't override (nullify) federal law which likely prevented major conflict or the union dissolving much sooner. Was it a push towards civil war? Sure but I think the conflict was inevitable
I don't know a whole lot about tariffs or how it affected the 19th century economy but from my understanding it was a good thing
Jackson was the first to secure treaties and trade status with the country and the British West Indies territories which helped in the economic boom in the 1830s. US ports became open to British vessels too
Which is kind of weird considering he was generally against big government but a lot of the actions were politically motivated, like vetoing Henry Clay's Maysville Road
Whether or not you like all of the policies (which I certainly don't), you can give credit to a guy who does what he says he is going to do
Not really a pro but personality wise he was a badass and an insane person. Probably the craziest president as he had a strong bloodlust, and he survived a duel where he allowed the opponent to shoot him first, then Jackson shoots back to kill him.

Cons:

Pretty obvious one there, thousands of Cherokees dead and tens of thousands forcibly displaced. And it's not like he reluctantly signed it or it was overwhelmingly supported by congress, he was all for Indian removal and went against Supreme Court who said that the government doesn't have the right to possession of Indian lands, for this Jackson said "Let's see them enforce it" (Worcester vs Georgia). This also supports the idea that Jackson was a tyrant
It's frequently said to be a good thing but it wasn't, not only did it directly lead to the Panic of 1837 and the inflation of paper money, but the surplus money was distributed corruptly amongst state pet banks who weren't Whig. I wont say that Jackson directly caused the economic depression to happen but it solidified it because the banks didn't have enough hard currency after paying off Federal lands. The British were also prepared to have American credit too
You can argue that Jackson getting Roger Taney to remove BOTUS II funds to pay off government bills, or to distribute them into state banks during Senate Recess was illegal, as it caused Jackson to get censured and was the only president in history to undergo it.
Jackson wanted to get rid of federal officials who were allegedly corrupt in previous administrations and to avoid a meritocracy. While previous presidents had involved some form of patronage in their administrations, Jackson was the biggest one who got rid of nearly 1000 officials which set a precent to devolve civil service into cronyism. Leading to corruption down the road to be eventually reformed by gilded age Republican presidents
EDIT: Oh shit I forgot about slavery lol, there's that too. And I'm pretty sure Jackson was just like "why do we need to talk about that?". I think the slaveowner thing with presidents is kind of tired, like yes absolutely terrible, one of the worst things that America stood for and we get it. But it's still worth mentioning for cons

Debatable Issues:

Honestly I don't know enough about econ to say whether its good or bad but my general impression was that Jackson had a point in how the government was handling BOTUS II in which it was benefitting rich people only, but how he handled the dismantling of the bank was bad. But if you know more about it, definitely weigh in on it
I would argue the Democrats being bad throughout the 19th century as they were pro slavery/pro Jim Crow racists. But we would have modern politics without Andrew Jackson, and the Whigs were created because of their opposition to Jackson
So what's your take on Jackson? Does his accomplishments lift him out of the bottom 10 through sheer impact or does he belong amongst the worst?
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2023.06.06 02:18 Narrow_Carpet_5133 Carolina Herrera Dinner Dress in Rio

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2023.06.06 00:05 London-Roma-1980 CONFERENCE MATCHDAY 1 RESULTS

Conference play has begun! With the ACC getting the day off, the other five power conferences look to get off to a hot start. A couple of upsets happened, but for the most part teams asserted their dominance. How did the fun begin? Let's check it out.
*****
ACC ALL-STAR SERIES: Charter 118, South 97. One of the great traditions of ACC play on NIBL is the All-Star Series, three games throughout the regular season that showcase the best the ACC has to offer. The start proved to be just what the fans wanted as the back half of the double-header with Charlotte's team.
Michael Jordan scored 33 points as the Charter Stars routed the South Stars 118-97 in a game with an all-star atmosphere.
"It's always fun to play these games," Wake Forest representative Chris Paul said after the game. "You get to mix it up with players of other teams, and you get to play a lot of offense. The atmosphere in the ACC is always fun."
Rick Barry and Stephon Marbury led Team South with 21 points each.
*****
#8 Indiana 84, #19 Illinois 83, OT. A lot of speculation on the Indiana sideline boiled down to who would step up in the clutch. We found someone.
Isiah Thomas hit a three-pointer with 2.1 seconds left in the overtime period as the Hoosiers (11-2, 1-0) knocked off the Fighting Illini (8-5, 0-1) to open Big Ten play for both teams.
"He's our leader," swingman Tom Van Arsdale said after the game. "He calls the shots, and when he calls his own number, we have trust in him to pull it off. That's what happened tonight."
It looked like an upset was on the offering when Meyers Leonard's dunk over Walt Bellamy gave Illinois an 83-81 lead with 11.5 seconds to go. But Thomas brought the ball up-court, got himself around Deron Williams, and stuck the dagger to give the Hoosier faithful something to cheer.
Bellamy led the Hoosiers with 20 points; Red Kerr had 17 for the Illini.
#7 Michigan 87, #7 Michigan State 72. In football, Michigan famously refers to Michigan State as little brother. This won't help.
Chris Webber took over on Kevin Willis underneath, putting up 35 points to lead the Wolverines (10-3, 1-0) over the Spartans (9-4, 0-1) in the Big Ten opener for both teams.
"He had everything going today," guard Jalen Rose said of Webber. "I never doubted him; I could just keep giving him the ball and he'd keep scoring. That's what you want."
"When the other team's best player has a career day, there's not much you can do," Michigan State coach Tom Izzo said in the press conference. "This was our chance to make something happen, and it didn't work. We have to recover now to stay in the Big Ten race."
Zach Randolph led Michigan State with 16 points.
#16 Texas 76, #17 Houston 67. Kevin Durant and Clyde Drexler were going to get their points for their respective teams; it would all come down to who else could step up. LaMarcus Aldridge had something to say about that.
Aldridge used his strength inside to muscle past the more slender Houston inside guys, picking up 13 points and 17 rebounds to help the Longhorns (10-3, 1-0) defeat the Cougars (9-4, 0-1) in the Big XII opener for both teams.
"Marc was able to use his size underneath, and that allowed us to hit our shots, and that's how we're gonna win these games," Kevin Durant (19 points) said after the game. "He really won the game for us. We were all in for the ride."
While Hakeem Olajuwon still had a regular day -- 14 points and 10 rebounds -- Aldridge kept Elvin Hayes from contributing, holding him to 4 rebounds for the day. A frustrated Hayes refused to talk to reporters after the game.
#2 Kentucky 92, #25 Auburn 75. Auburn wants to make the NIBL tournament. Kentucky wants to win it. The difference in goals reflects their talent, which was on display here.
Anthony Davis had 16 points and 7 blocks as the Wildcats (12-1, 1-0) bumped off the Tigers (8-5, 0-1) in the conference opener for both teams.
"We knew we couldn't take Auburn lightly; they have a player [Charles Barkley] who can get 20 and 20 on any night," Adolph Rupp told reporters. "So we had to go 100% out there, and that's exactly what we did.
Kentucky went 12 deep in their conference opener, with 9 of the players getting points and 4 getting double-figures. Davis' 16 led the way, but Devin Booker had 15, Jamal Mashburn had 13, and Dan Issel had 11.
Barkley did lead the Tigers with 21 points, but was held to 9 rebounds on the night.
*****
Georgetown 86, #18 DePaul 69. It was a matchup of big men underneath, with George Mikan taking on Patrick Ewing Sr. However, Georgetown had more size, and they used it to their advantage.
Alonzo Mourning, Dikembe Mutombo, and Ewing combined for 51 points and 38 rebounds as the Hoyas (9-4, 1-0) upset the Blue Demons (8-5, 0-1) in the Big East opener for both teams.
"We work from the inside out when we're on our game," Hoyas coach John Thompson II said after the game. "We knew they had a couple good bigs, but they couldn't match our volume. So we focused on getting 1s and 2s tonight."
DePaul looked to help from their outside shooters, but couldn't get any. Wilson Chandler shot 3-13 from beyond the arc, which still meant he led the team with 14 points. Mikan, who found himself double-teamed underneath most of the game, ended on 9 points and 8 rebounds.
"It wasn't my day," Mikan said after the game. "We have things to think about."
Minnesota 86, #13 Maryland 84, OT. Minnesota had a decision to make: how do you guard Len Bias? They went with length, and it worked when they needed it the most.
Kris Humphries blocked Bias' layup attempt with 4.8 seconds left in the extra session as the Golden Gophers (9-4, 1-0) upset the Terrapins (9-4, 0-1) to open Big Ten play for both teams.
"I had a chance to maintain my position when I saw Bias at the three-point line get the ball," Humphries said about the final play. "I knew Archie [Clark] could help over if Lenny spotted up, but I wanted to make sure he didn't send it to a double OT, and I had the position and got all ball."
It was a frustrating end for Bias, who led all scorers with 23 points.
"I thought we had a chance to win this one," Bias said after the game. "Things didn't go our way."
Mychal Thompson Sr led the Gophers with 18 points.
*****
HOW THE TOP 25 FARED
  1. UCLA 90, Stanford 60
  2. Kentucky 92, 25. Auburn 75
  3. North Carolina did not play
  4. Kansas 99, Iowa State 62
  5. Duke did not play
  6. Michigan State 74, 7. Michigan 87
  7. Michigan 87, 6. Michigan State 74
  8. Indiana 84, 19. Illinois 83, OT
  9. Notre Dame did not play
  10. Arizona 77, Oregon 75
  11. Southern Cal 88, California 52
  12. Ohio State 78, Wisconsin 57
  13. Maryland 84, Minnesota 86, OT
  14. Syracuse did not play
  15. Connecticut 80, Providence 52
  16. Texas 76, 17. Houston 67
  17. Houston 67, 16. Texas 76
  18. DePaul 69, Georgetown 86
  19. Illinois 83, 8. Indiana 84, OT
  20. LSU 83, Mississippi State 53
  21. Cincinnati 100, Texas Tech 68
  22. Alabama 97, Vanderbilt 73
  23. Arkansas 90, Tennessee 76
  24. NC State did not play
  25. Auburn 75, 2. Kentucky 92
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2023.06.05 23:07 JoshAsdvgi THE NUNNE'HI AND OTHER SPIRIT FOLK

THE NUNNE'HI AND OTHER SPIRIT FOLK

THE NUNNE'HI AND OTHER SPIRIT FOLK
A Cherokee Legend

The Nûñnë'hï or immortals, the "people who live anywhere," were a race of spirit people who lived in the highlands of the old Cherokee country and had a great many townhouses, especially in the bald mountains.
They had large townhouses in Pilot knob and under the old Nikwasi' mound in North Carolina, and another under Blood mountain, at the head of Nottely river, in Georgia.
They were invisible excepting when they wanted to be seen, and then they looked and poke just like other Indians.
They were very fond of music and dancing, and hunters in the mountains would often hear the dance, songs and the drum beating in some invisible townhouse, but when they went toward the sound it would shift about and they would hear it behind them or away in some other direction, so that they could never find the place where the dance was.
They were a friendly people, too, and often brought lost wanderers to their townhouses under the mountains and cared for them there until they were rested and then guided them back to their home .
More than once, also, when the Cherokee were hard pressed by the enemy, the Nûñnë'hï warriors have come out, as they did at old Nikwasi', and have saved them from defeat.
Some people have thought that they are the same as the Yûñwï Tsunsdi', the "Little People"; but these are fairies, no larger in size than children.
There was a man in Nottely town who had been with the Nûñnë'hï when he was a boy, and he told Wafford all about it. He was a truthful, hard-headed man, and Wafford had heard the story so often from other people that he asked this man to tell it.
It was in this way:
When he was about 10 or 12 years old he was playing one day near the river, shooting at a mark with his how and arrows, until he became tired, and started to build a fish trap in the water.
While he was piling up the stones in two long walls a man came and stood on the bank and asked him what he was doing.
The boy told him, and the man said, "Well, that's pretty hard work and you ought to rest a while.
Come and take a walk up the river."
The boy said, "No"; that he was going home to dinner soon.
"Come right up to my house," said the stranger, and I'll give you a good dinner there and bring you home again in the morning."
So the boy went with him up the river until they came to a house, when they went in, and the man's wife and the other people there were very glad to see him, and gave him a fine dinner, and were very kind to him.
While they were eating a man that the boy knew very well came in and spoke to him, so that he felt quite at home.
After dinner he played with the other children and slept there that night, and in the morning, after breakfast, the man got ready to take him home.
They went down a path that had a cornfield on one side and a peach orchard fenced in on the other, until they came to another trail, and the man said, "Go along this trail across that ridge and you will come to the river road that will bring you straight to your home, and now I'll go back to the house."
So the man went back to the house and the boy went on along the trail, but when he had gone a little way he looked back, and there was no cornfield or orchard or fence or house; nothing but trees on the mountain side.
He thought it very queer, but somehow he was not frightened, and went on until he came to the river trail in sight of his home.
There were a great many people standing about talking, and when they saw him they ran toward him shouting, "Here he is! He is not drowned or killed in the mountains!"
They told him they had been hunting him ever since yesterday noon, and asked him where he had been.
"A man took me over to his house just across the ridge, and I had a fine dinner and a good time with the children," said the boy,
"I thought Udsi'skalä here"--that was the name of the man he had seen at dinner--"would tell you where I was."
But Udsi'skalä said, "I haven't seen you.
I was out all day in my canoe hunting you.
It was one of the Nûñnë'hï that made himself look like me."
Then his mother said, "You say you had dinner there?"
"Yes, and I had plenty, too," said the boy; but his mother answered, "There is no house there--only trees and rocks--but we hear a drum sometimes in the big bald above.
The people you saw were the Nûñnë'hï."
Once four Nûñnë'hï women came, to a dance at Nottely town, and danced half the night with the young men there, and nobody knew that they were Nûñnë'hï, but thought them visitors from another settlement.
About midnight they left to go home, and some men who had come out from the townhouse to cool off watched to see which way they went.
They saw the women go down the trail to the river ford, but just as they came to the water they disappeared, although it was a plain trail, with no place where they could hide.
Then the watchers knew they were Nûñnë'hï women.
Several men saw this happen, and one of them was Wafford's father-in-law, who was known for an honest man.
At another time a man named Burnt-tobacco was crossing over the ridge from Nottely to Hemptown in Georgia and heard a drum and the songs of dancers in the hills on one side of the trail.
He rode over to see who could be dancing in such a place, but when he reached the spot the drum and the songs were behind him, and he was so frightened that he hurried back to the trail and rode all the way to Hemptown as hard as he could to tell the story.
He was a truthful man, and they believed what he said.
There must have been a good many of the Nûñnë'hï living in that neighborhood, because the drumming wits often heard in the high balds almost up to the time of the Removal.
On a small upper branch of Nottely, running nearly due north from Blood maintain, there was also a hole, like a small well or chimney, in the ground, from which there came up a warm vapor that heated all the air around.
People said that this was because the Nûñnë'hï had a townhouse and a fire under the mountain.
Sometimes in cold weather hunters would stop there to warm the selves, but they were afraid to stay long.
This was more than sixty years ago, but the hole is probably there yet.
Close to the old trading path from South Carolina up to the Cherokee Nation, somewhere near the head of Tugaloo, there was formerly a noted circular depression about the size of a townhouse, and waist deep.
Inside it was always clean as though swept by unknown hands.
Passing traders would throw logs and rocks into it, but would always, on their return, find them thrown far out from the hole. The Indians said it was a Nunne'hi townhouse, and never liked to go near the place or even to talk about it, until at last some logs thrown in by the traders were allowed to remain there, and then they concluded that the Nunne'hi, annoyed by the persecution of the white men, had abandoned their townhouse forever.
There is another race of spirits, the Yûñwï Tsunsdi', or "Little People," who live in rock eaves on the mountain side.
They are little fellows, hardly reaching up to a man's knee, but well shaped and handsome, with long hair falling almost to the ground.
They are great wonder workers and are very fond of music, spending half their time drumming and dancing.
They are helpful and kind-hearted, and often when people have been lost in the mountains, especially children who have strayed away from their parents, the Yûñwï Tsunsdi' have found them and taken care of them and brought them back to their homes.
Sometimes their drum is heard in lonely places in the mountains, but it is not safe to follow it, because the Little People do not like to be disturbed at home, and they throw a spell over the stranger so that he is bewildered and loses his way, and even if he does at last get back to the settlement he is like one dazed ever after.
Sometimes, also, they come near a house at night and the people inside hear them talking, but they must not go out, and in the morning they find the corn gathered or the field cleared as if a whole force of men had been at work.
If anyone should go out to watch, he would die.
When a hunter finds anything in the woods, such as a knife or a trinket, he must say, "Little People, I want to take this," because it may belong to them, and if he does not ask their permission they will throw stones at him as he goes home.
Once a hunter in winter found tracks in the snow like the tracks of little children.
He wondered how they could have come there and followed them until they led him to a cave, which was full of Little People, young and old, men, women, and children.
They brought him in and were kind to him, and he was with them some time; but when he left they warned him that he must not tell or he would die.
He went back to the settlement and his friends were all anxious to know where he had been.
For a long time he refused to say, until at last he could not hold out any longer, but told the story, and in a few days he died.
Only a few years ago two hunters from Raventown, going behind the high fall near the head of Oconaluftee on the East Cherokee reservation, found there a cave with fresh footprints of the Little People all over the floor.
During the smallpox among the East Cherokee just after the war one sick man wandered off, and his friends searched, but could not find him.
After several weeks he came back and said that the Little People had found him and taken him to one of their eaves and tended him until he was cured.
About twenty-five years ago a man named Tsantäwû' was lost in the mountains on the head of Oconaluftee.
It was winter time and very cold and his friends thought he must be dead, but after sixteen days he came back and said that the Little People had found him and taken him to their cave, where he had been well treated, and given plenty of everything to eat except bread.
This was in large loaves, but when he took them in his hand to eat they seemed to shrink into small cakes so light and crumbly that though he might eat all day he would not be satisfied.
After he was well rested they had brought him a part of the way home until they came to a small creek, about knee deep, when they told him to wade across to reach the main trail on the other side.
He waded across and turned to look back, but the Little People were gone and the creek was a deep river.
When he reached home his legs were frozen to the knees and he lived only a few days.
Once the Yûñwï Tsunsdi' had been very kind to the people of a certain settlement, helping them at night with their work and taking good care of any lost children, until something happened to offend them and they made up their minds to leave the neighborhood.
Those who were watching at the time saw the whole company of Little People come down to the ford of the river and cross over and disappear into the mouth of a large cave on the other side.
They were never heard of near the settlement again.
There are other fairies, the Yûñwï Amai'yïnë'hï, or Water-dwellers, who live in the water, and fishermen pray to them for help.
Other friendly spirits live in people's houses, although no one can see them, and so long as they are there to protect the house no witch can come near to do mischief.
Tsäwa'sï and Tsäga'sï are the names of two small fairies, who are mischievous enough, but yet often help the hunter who prays to them.
Tsäwa'sï, or Tsäwa'sï Usdi'ga (Little Tsäwa'sï), is a tiny fellow, very handsome, with long hair falling down to his feet, who lives in grassy patches on the hillsides and has great power over the game.
To the deer hunter who prays to him he gives skill to slip up on the deer through the long grass without being seen.
Tsäga'sï is another of the spirits invoked by the hunter and is very helpful, but when someone trips and falls, we know that it is Tsäga'sï who has caused it.
There are several other of these fairies with names, all good-natured, but more or less tricky.
Then there is De'tsätä. De'tsätä was once a boy who ran away to the woods to avoid a scratching and tries to keep himself invisible ever since.
He is a handsome little fellow and spends his whole time hunting birds with blowgun and arrow.
He has a great many children who are all just like him and have the same name.
When a flock of birds flies up suddenly as if frightened it is because De'tsätä is chasing them.
He is mischievous and sometimes hides an arrow from the bird hunter, who may have shot it off into a perfectly clear space, but looks and looks without finding it.
Then the hunter says, "De'tsätä, you have my arrow, and if you don't give it up I'll scratch you," and when he looks again he finds it.
There is one spirit that goes about at night with a light.
The Cherokee call it Atsil'-dihye'gï, "The Fire-carrier," and they are all afraid of it, because they think it dangerous, although they do not know much about it.
They do not even know exactly what it looks like, because they are afraid to stop when they see it.
It may be a witch instead of a spirit.
Wafford's mother saw the "Fire-carrier" once when she was a young woman, as she was coming home at night from a trading post in South Carolina.
It seemed to be following her from behind, and. she was frightened and whipped up her horse until she got away from it and never saw it again.
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2023.06.05 23:06 JoshAsdvgi The Nunnehi

The Nunnehi

The Nunnehi

The Cherokee believed there was a race of spirits called the Nunnehi.
The were only seen when they wanted to be seen, but usually looked like ordinary people when someone did see them.
Here are some stories about the Nunnehi.
A 10 or 12 years old boy was playing one day near the river, shooting at a mark with his bow and arrows, until he became tired, and started to build a fish trap in the water.
While he was piling up the stones in two long walls a man came and stood on the bank and asked him what he was doing.
The boy told him, and the man said, "Well, that's pretty hard work and you ought to rest a while.
Come and take a walk up the river."
The boy said, "No"; that he was going home to dinner soon. "Come right up to my house," said the stranger, and I'll give you a good dinner there and bring you home again in the morning."
So the boy went with him up the river until they came to a house, when they went in, and the man's wife and the other people there were very glad to see him, and gave him a fine dinner, and were very kind to him.
While they were eating a man that the boy knew very well came in and spoke to him, so that he felt quite at home.
After dinner he played with the other children and slept there that night, and in the morning, after breakfast, the man got ready to take him home.
They went down a path that had a cornfield on one side and a peach orchard fenced in on the other, until they came to another trail, and the man said, "Go along this trail across that ridge and you will come to the river road that will bring you straight to your home, and now I'll go back to the house.
" So the man went back to the house and the boy went on along the trail, but when he had gone a little way he looked back, and there was no cornfield or orchard or fence or house; nothing but trees on the mountain side.
He thought it very strange, but somehow he was not frightened, and went on until he came to the river trail in sight of his home.
There were a great many people standing about talking, and when they saw him they ran toward him shouting, "Here he is! He is not drowned or killed in the mountains!"
They told him they had been hunting him ever since yesterday noon, and asked him where he had been.
"A man took me over to his house just across the ridge, and I had a fine dinner and a good time with the children," said the boy, "I thought Udsi'skalä here" -- that was the name of the man he had seen at dinner -- "would tell you where I was."
But Udsi'skalä said, "I haven't seen you.
I was out all day in my canoe hunting you.
It was one of the Nunnehi that made himself look like me."
Then his mother said, "You say you had dinner there?"
"Yes, and I had plenty, too," said the boy; but his mother answered, "There is no house there -- only trees and rocks -- but we hear a drum sometimes in the big bald above.
The people you saw were the Nunnehi."
Once four Nunnehi women came, to a dance at Nottely town, and danced half the night with the young men there, and nobody knew that they were Nunnehi, but thought them visitors from another settlement.
About midnight they left to go home, and some men who had come out from the townhouse to cool off watched to see which way they went.
They saw the women go down the trail to the river ford, but just as they came to the water they disappeared, although it was a plain trail, with no place where they could hide.
Then the watchers knew they were Nunnehi women.
Several men saw this happen, and one of them was Wafford's father-in-law, who was known for an honest man.
At another time a man named Burnt-tobacco was crossing over the ridge from Nottely to Hemptown in Georgia and heard a drum and the songs of dancers in the hills on one side of the trail.
He rode over to see who could be dancing in such a place, but when he reached the spot the drum and the songs were behind him, and he was so frightened that he hurried back to the trail and rode all the way to Hemptown as hard as he could to tell the story.
He was a truthful man, and they believed what he said.
There must have been a good many of the Nunnehi living in that neighborhood, because the drumming was often heard in the high balds almost up to the time of the Removal.
On a small upper branch of Nottely, running nearly due north from Blood mountain, there was also a hole, like a small well or chimney, in the ground, from which there came up a warm vapor that heated all the air around.
People said that this was because the Nunnehi had a townhouse and a fire under the mountain.
Sometimes in cold weather hunters would stop there to warm themselves, but they were afraid to stay long.
This was more than sixty years ago, but the hole is probably there yet.
Close to the old trading path from South Carolina up to the Cherokee Nation, somewhere near the head of Tugaloo, there was formerly a noted circular depression about the size of a townhouse, and waist deep.
Inside it was always clean as though swept by unknown hands.
Passing traders would throw logs and rocks into it, but would always, on their return, find them thrown far out from the hole.
The Indians said it was a Nunnehi townhouse, and never liked to go near the place or even to talk about it, until at last some logs thrown in by the traders were allowed to remain there, and then they concluded that the Nunnehi, annoyed by the persecution of the white men, had abandoned their townhouse forever.
submitted by JoshAsdvgi to Native_Stories [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 21:37 pairofcrows PSA: If you’re still waiting for merch from the draft, give the survey email a low score for Shipping Speed. I did, and 10 minutes later my arrival date went from Oct to June.

submitted by pairofcrows to panthers [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 20:38 4ShotBot My Roommate is Slenderman: Part 26

Part 25: https://www.reddit.com/Viidith22/comments/13yj6jh/my_roommate_is_slenderman_part_25_revised/
(Joseph)
The slush sloshed under my feet with each step, giving the dead streets some much-needed sound. As I made my way to the house, a sense of regret took hold. Along with a desire, a desire to have the last bit of my memories come back. Despite everything, the only set of memories I still lacked was where Scott had taken me on the day that started everything.
“Damn Terry, why couldn’t you have just been home?” I grimaced, rubbing my arm at the statement. A quick flash of the USPM Commander knocking me out shook my head. “Why couldn’t I have just…” I sighed, “No…”
I gazed up, snow clouds still looming overhead. I took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, hearing nothing but the crunching of snow under my feet, reminding me of snapping bones. The thought made my mouth water, “When I finally get out of here, I needa see Rachel.”
“God, this asshole better be home.” I knocked to no response. Twisting the knob, I pushed the door open. Taking a deep breath, I tried to ease my nerves. Focusing on my ears, it didn’t take long for me to hear my heartbeat, then my nervous system, and just before I stepped in, there was a third thing, a writhing inside me.
I pushed the door open, keeping my eyes shut, I listened for any subtle change as I shut the door behind me. I could feel the vibration of the air in my ear canals bringing them to a ring. I took a breath, stepping further in. I side-stepped into the kitchen, flinging my eyelids open. A man stood, holding an extendable baton that made a clicking sound when he pressed a button. Next to him on the counter, a knife block.
Opening a drawer behind me, I pulled out the first thing I touched right as he lunged at me. I blocked the rubber-gripped metal spatula I’d pulled out, “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I backed into the living room as the man pulled out a second baton.
Then I heard something behind me, I rolled over the couch, getting both men in my line of sight. The throbbing in my side returned, not painful this time, it was invigorating, “Come at me!” The second man pulled out a short sword and I couldn’t help but notice they didn’t have guns.
They charged me from both sides, I held up my left arm to the guy with the short sword, hitting the second guy’s batons to the side and kicking him back. The short sword guy was reeling back for another swing. I lunged back over the couch running to the kitchen, dropping the spatula and ripping a bread and chef’s knife from the knife block. The short sword plunged into my back and I whipped around, slicing the guy with my chef’s knife, slicing open his cheek.
Then, a tasing in my left arm, and I swung, but he knocked the bread knife away with a baton. He reeled back for another shot at me when I swung the chef’s knife as hard as I could down at his left baton. It made a crackling sound and he dropped it, hitting me in the neck with the good one. I fell to a knee, reaching and pulling the sword out of my back. The unarmed man tried to punch me in the face, but I swung the sword wildly and he fell back, waiting for an opening.
The baton guy staggered back just long enough for me to stand back up. I dropped the Chef knife, the pain in my forearm growing too strong as it went through the healing process. I swung at the man with the baton, he jumped back, blocking the blade with his shock stick, which bent before frying just like the last one. He took a couple steps back before turning and running out the door. I turned back, the other man was trying to book it too. I chased him out of the kitchen and tackled him to the floor.
“Look buddy, I’ve had to deal with assholes like you since I got here, so I hope it’s not too much trouble for you to give me just a tad bit of information.” He seized in response, flopping under me like a goldfish. Flipping him over, he was frothing from the mouth, pupils dilated, “God damnit.”
The man convulsed as I pulled his wallet and cell phone from his pockets. Turning the phone on revealed I needed a four-digit pin code, “I hope you were an idiot when you were alive.” I flipped open his wallet, sure enough, his social security card was in there. I checked for the last four digits and dialed them into the phone, unlocking it. “Wow man, wow.” I dropped his wallet on him and staggered to my feet, feeling the hunger take hold again. But looking down at the dead man on the floor, I didn’t wanna take any chances, so I left him be, promising myself I’d get some food soon.
I scrolled through notes, then texts, eventually finding myself at emails. One had stood out to me while scrolling, an exchange with a guy he called, ‘The Jack' from a couple weeks before. They were talking about the revolution, and that, “the men need to be ready in three weeks.”
There was an address that felt vaguely familiar, as well as a bunch of other details about everyone in the rebellion. Basically, a bunch of stuff to make sure there wouldn’t be the issue of a revolution anymore. The wordplay and deceptive speech patterns were just way too familiar, “Make that five, asshole.” I headed out the door, and as I walked, I couldn’t help but notice the car that pulled around a corner a few blocks behind me.
I never looked back, but my ears were too in tune to not notice the consistent crunching of snow and pistons firing. They were quiet for sure, but my paranoia was quieter. I heard them inching ever closer. With each foot gained, I could sense where they were that slight bit better. Every second pumped me with more adrenaline, and when I could see the bumper out of the corner of my eye, I readied myself, that’s when the window rolled down.
“Ahhhh, Joseph, care to take a ride?” The question flung me through a wall.
“Huh?” I looked over, metaphor man held a gun at me.
“It’s been a little while, I thought since you were in the neighborhood, you wouldn’t mind riding around with me for a bit. You know, since you so graciously took me where I needed to go last time.”
I swallowed, “Those aren’t normal bullets.”
He smiled, “Would you like to get in the car?”
I opened the door, sitting patiently, biding my time, until a wide barrel pressed against my neck, angled up. “It’s been a bit, how are you?”
“I’m doing quite well, how’s my spark plug doing?”
“Seen better days.” The suppressor shoved into my neck, “Look, I was kidnapped by Scott.”
“Yes, I’m well aware, but that mess you made, that was far too close of a call, and you didn’t even call us. While you staying alive is important, you aren’t necessary. What about our mystery man?”
“How am I gonna–” The barrel stabbed me, “Sorry, I just, wanted to know who I was. I haven’t figured out who that guy is yet. I thought maybe my memories could give me some insight.” I almost blew a raspberry out of surprise, I couldn’t believe how quickly I came up with it.
“I see, well?”
“Sorry, nothing yet, but I’m sure–”
“How was Scott? Anything you feel you should tell us?”
“It sounds like he’s in with a bunch of other groups in town. Also, any time he’s around, I’m calm, not intentionally or anything though, I just can’t get pissed at him.”
“We’re aware of a couple of other organizations he’s a part of, how many can you be certain of?”
“He told me four when I was locked up, but there’s also this phone.” I pulled it out, typing in the password and pulling up the email, “Sounds like–”
“Hand it back, he’ll look over it.” Doing as he said, we sat in silence for a few minutes.
Then the voice behind me sounded, “Yeah, big raid on the rebellion.” He handed the phone back to me.
“That would be nice for us, if only so many of them weren’t such big parts of this town.” Metaphor man paused, then said, “You were headed there when we picked you up.”
“What of it?”
“I have a proposition. You find a way to end this farce, and you will gain access to the file on your friend, Terry.”
“That’s one hell of a trust violation. How about I just follow through on what I already planned on doing?”
“Call it a hunch. It sounds like you want to get out of this town, whether it be stubbornness or knowing you’ll die the moment you leave, you’ve decided to stay in town despite regaining your memories. How about we leave it at that, you get the revolution you want, as well as some information you need.” He pulled over.
“I can just not read it.”
“I never said you had to, it’s a gift is all.”
“Okay fuckfa–” The barrel hit me so hard my vision faded for a moment.
“Please, we’re all friends here now. Let Joseph go.”
I opened the door, stepping onto the slushy sidewalk.
“Oh, right, before you’re off, be careful with Scott.” I turned to face him as I grabbed the door, “He can pacify people if their emotions aren’t strong enough, so get pissed at him or something along those lines before going down there.” He drove off, leaving the door to slam shut with the speed.
I watched as they turned a corner, nearly skidding out on the slurpie-covered road. Then I looked around, trying to figure out where they’d dropped me off. Soon enough, I noticed the wall, and the vaguely familiar building beside me, everything cleared, and I stomped into the building, keeping everything Scott had done to me at the forefront.
“WHERE’S SCOTT!?” Everyone stopped what they were doing, turning to me.
“Who’s asking?” The man behind the bar counter asked, with a vague sense of familiarity.
“JOSEPH, I was in here the other day! You guys have a snake down here, and I need to have a talk with it!”
“I don’t know a Joseph, but you oughtta be out of here if you’re gonna claim something like that!”
Some of the people nearby stood, approaching me, “I have evidence! Each one of you can look it over while I beat the shit out of Scott if you need!”
“Quiet down.” It pierced through every other sound, like a dog whistle, bypassing everyone’s voices, and silencing them. From the back of the room, I saw the older woman from before coming out from the back room. “Come with me, we should discuss this in private.” Her voice was so crisp, I almost followed her on instinct. Taking a breath, I made my way to her.
The back room wreaked of vodka and body odor. Heading through another door, I found the source of it. Scott sat chained to a table, and they’d apparently given him a bottle of cheap liquor to go to town on, which lay empty beside him.
“What the hell?”
“We can’t get anything out of him, we thought some alcohol would loosen him up, make him more willing to talk. But not even a 5th was enough.”
“So you already know about the raid?”
“Excuse me?”
I looked at Scott, “He goes by ‘The Jack.” I saw Scott’s giggly face falter ever so slightly as he rolled his head around the table. “Said their team needed to be ready in three weeks, that was two weeks ago. Any idea on that?”
“No… We’re all set to leave in two…” She stared hard at Scott, “You will die for this.” Turning back to me, she asked, “How can you be sure it was Scott if they never used his name?”
“Here, just read some of these messages, sounds like a certain fuckhead if you ask me.”
Taking the phone, she scrolled a bit, backing out a few more times to scroll some more. I could see the moment she got to THE email, something behind her eyes cracked, along with the phone. She dropped the now broken phone on the table. “We need to speed up our plans. While we appreciate your help, Joseph, we can take it from here.”
“No.”
She looked at me, indignant, “Oh?”
“I didn’t come to sit on the sidelines, I want out of this shit town too.”
“I’m afraid you can’t help us. Everyone you met the other day has already forgotten who you are, as per you not joining us.”
“Hold the fuck up! What!?”
“I advise you be on your way.” My muscles twitched at the suggestion, “Now!” My body turned to leave.
“You killing him? He’s my brother you know.”
“You want us to let him go?”
“No, I’d rather be sure he’s gone. Not to be a dick, but I don’t think I can take you at your word.”
“We have other intentions, his abilities are too useful to kill him outright.”
“Do you mind giving me a moment then?”
“I’m staying here, but if you want to say goodbye go ahead.”
I walked over to my brother, looking him up and down, “God you’re pathetic. But maybe the next time around, you’ll have a better go of it. Must’ve been hard being raised here by yourself.” I reached into his shirt, ripping the crystal off his neck and pocketing it. “That doesn’t mean you’re not still the worst kind of person.” I turned to leave, “Do whatever you want with him, make sure he regrets his existence for me if you can.
As I stepped out the door, she stopped me, “Hold on. What was that?”
“Family heirloom.”
“Let me see it.”
I took a step back in, holding the glowing crystal out, “Nothing special.”
“Alright, get going then.”
I put the necklace back in my pocket, “When can I expect the revolution? I wanna slip out in the chaos.”
“Four days, if you see any of us fighting anyone, just ignore it, leave town, I don’t want any debts.”
I walked out, muttering to myself, “Could just get the memory of the debt erased.”
I pushed open the door, wiped. Locking it, I made my way through every room, locking every window. Pulling my pillow and blanket into the bathroom and dropping them in the tub, I locked the bathroom door and quickly passed out. The only dreams I had were reforming memories, things like the giant dildo attack, the fight against Takeo, the name that pissed Terry off so much. What happened back then? Why was it such a sore spot?
I shot up, already in fight or flight, looking around, I was still in my bathroom. I let out a sigh, allowing myself to relax. Getting out of the tub, I rubbed my aching side, throwing the pillow and blanket to the side. After some time, I’d thrown them into the wash from all the dried blood I’d rubbed into them, then took a shower, and went to the store for a meal.
Once I’d had some food, the daze I didn’t know I was in passed. I was about halfway home when my brain seemed to boot back up. “How long was I out?” The question made me reach for my phone, only to remember I didn’t have one anymore. “Great, can’t even message metaphor man and tell him I took care of it.” I walked in silence for a few moments, “Why would I want to?”
Turning the corner, my house came into view, and I noticed something weird. My car was parked in front of the house. I sped up, splashing the slushy concrete under me, soaking my shoes. When I got to it, I pulled out my keys, pressed the unlock button on my fob, and sure enough, the lights flashed. I opened it, a phone sat atop an envelope. I picked them up, looking around me, but no one was in sight. I checked behind the Camry, but while there were light tracks, snow from the night before had faintly covered them.
Looking around one more time, I hurried into the house, locking my car with the key fob. My socks and shoes flopped to the floor as I made my way to the couch.
I emptied the contents onto my coffee table. A flash drive, a few hundred bucks, and a note, “We appreciate you going through with your decision to aid us, and in such a timely manner. As thanks, we have left you with your friend ‘Terry’s’ file. As well as a few other items, including your car, we hope for a long-lasting relationship. Don’t forget what you owe us. -The Mechanics”
I threw the money in my wallet, staring at the note, occasionally glancing down at the drive. “Yeah, what I owe you… assholes.” I crumpled the note, tossing it in the trash as I entered the kitchen. I twirled the flash drive in my fingers, leaning against the counter, nothing occupying my mind. I stared at the opposing wall as if it held some deep secret to the universe.
Some time passed with me sitting on the couch, watching tv. At some point, I’d reached into my pocket, feeling the smooth plastic on my fingers. I spun it around in my pocket for an episode or two before standing and heading to my office.
Slipping the drive into the back of my computer, I turned it on and opened the storage device.
There were two folders. One marked Terry, and one named Tresca. I hesitated and clicked on Terry’s folder. There were hundreds of pages, on the main document. I didn’t read all of them, but there were parts I did go through in depth. His history with Maerod, the contract association, the people he’d left behind, the names he’d dropped before starting new lives. Most notably, his past with a woman named “Tresca.”
It didn’t say what she was; but made it very clear she had an extremely fragile soul, even weaker than a human. He took her in one day, and eventually, grew a fondness for her. Some time passed and he decided to give up contract killing for her. But when he confronted Maerod to tell her he was giving it up, she warped his memories, twisting his love into hatred of Tresca. She’d used an ability not unlike Smudge’s to do it.
When he came home later that day, he put a tentacle through Tresca’s head and threw her body outside where it got ravaged by wolves later that night. Over time, and with him choosing to live secluded from the world, keeping to himself in the cabin he’d made in the woods, the memories would return to him. He’d remember all the happiness he’d held with Tresca, and eventually moved into civilization, using some of the contacts he’d made previously to move into an apartment and eventually make enough money to buy the entire complex.
A few years later, he picked up a new name and decided to settle down. But when he didn’t have anything to do, his mind would return to the person he shouldn’t have killed. He used every possible thing to distract himself, from drinking to hobbies, when he wasn’t capturing atypicals for FetchQuest, he was doing what he could to forget. Eventually, he picked up drawing, taking to the art style of his favorite medium of entertainment. This eventually led to painting, but for a reason unspecified, he gave up art as a whole not long after.
That’s around where I came into the picture, so that’s where I stopped. I sat there afterward, processing the details I’d gleamed. I shook my head in disgust with myself. But there was still that tinge of curiosity perched in the center of my mind. “What about Tresca’s side?”
After grabbing a glass of water, I sat back down, closed Terry’s document, and hit back on the folder. I stared at the second name. Double-clicking the folder revealed several documents. I leaned back, sipping from my glass, mind empty. I swirled the water around, staring at the blank ceiling.
“What haven’t I done yet?” A dry chuckle pushed out of me. Leaning forward, I downed the glass of water, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and opened the document.
I avoided all the pages that didn’t involve Terry, it felt the least disrespectful between that and reading everything. But in all honesty, it’s because I didn’t really care about her, I wanted to know why the file was on the drive.
She’d come across his cabin one day, apparently running from something that I didn’t have the context for. She hid there, and when the people showed up, Terry, or Kenet at the time, came home shortly thereafter. They were disposed of when they attacked him, and soon enough Terry found the woman hiding out. They talked about what she’d been through and he offered to let her stay with him until everyone thought she was dead. Terry never really minded people, but he had to eat human children to survive, so he was despised by any people that knew about him.
The strange thing was, she never minded that aspect of him, and she never went insane. He wasn’t sure why, but eventually, it passed him by. As time went on, they forgot about their deal and she stayed with him on a permanent basis, learning to hunt and survive on her own when he went on his trips, a word he used so she wouldn’t know he was killing people. She found out one day while cleaning the cabin when she found his pile of contracts stashed away. But it didn’t change anything, and she never told him.
She read books in her spare time, going into the city to buy new ones every so often when she ran out of stuff to do. Eventually, Terry started reading some of them. They’d discuss the stories day in and day out, and Terry progressively took fewer and fewer contracts, thinking up countless ways to spend more time with her. They ended up getting into board games and even manage to jimmy rig a tv using a generator and a VCR. They’d spend days with each other, and when the time came, Kenet gave up his old name and told Maerod he was giving up contract killing. Which is where her story ended.
By the time I’d finished reading, the bottle of whiskey was empty beside me. I rubbed my temples. My brain holding loose connections it didn’t know what to do with. I wanted to see Terry again, but something made me nervous. It wasn’t the murders, not even killing Tresca, but I couldn’t tell what. Something about her felt… familiar to an extent.
I stood from my seat, crossed my arms, and looked around, “Guess I should start packing?” I shut my computer off, pulled the drive out of my computer, and took it to the kitchen where I smashed it to fragments with a meat tenderizer.
The day of the revolution had come, and I was squeezing the last of my stuff into the trunk. Heading back into the house for the last time, I looked back at my car, cringing when I saw my pc in the back seat.
I looked around, seeing if I’d missed anything I wanted to keep around, my eyes eventually falling on the business card on the ground. Walking over to it, I picked it up, “The Remnants of the Crystal Age.” I flipped it in my hand a few times, sliding it into my overflowing wallet.
“Maybe later.”
I walked about, just kinda looking at everything. My eyes passed over the painting I’d seen one night. Despite all the memories that had returned, I could only remember seeing the three figures in that office one other time, the night I was kidnapped, which started this whole crazy shitshow. I smirked to myself, a tear forming. “This really is it huh? I don’t even know how things are gonna go down when I see him again. Will he even be home?” I rubbed the wall, “Maybe I’ll have to take another road.” I turned my head around, staring at the door.
Leaving the house behind, I pulled the key from my chain, looking down at it, then into the sky as I tossed it off to my side.
Snow had already started falling, “Damn.”
Sitting in my car, I checked my phone, “8:13 pm.” An explosion triggered the first siren. I took a deep breath, backing out of the driveway.
Finale/Epilogue: Coming Very Soon!
submitted by 4ShotBot to Viidith22 [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 20:28 a_lang_face A capsule to represent 2010-onward in perfume

If you were to curate a capsule collection of perfumes (let's say, no more than a dozen) to represent the shape of perfumery from 2010-onward, what would you include and why?
It doesn't necessarily have to cover all areas of perfumery. You could choose to focus on female-marketed perfumes (it is FemFragLab after all), unisex, specific notes & genres - gourmands, patchouli, woody fragrances, whatever is most interesting to you! I also think a male-marketed capsule curated from a feminine perspective could be really interesting. I think ideally there would be some mix of "these are perfumes that represent what was popular in 2010-2023" and "these are the perfumes that are really worth trying from 2010-2023", though ofc you could argue that those two concepts are one and the same.
*****
As a general starting point, I made a list of all the fragrances I could find that were released 2010 or later and have at least 900 reviews (not ratings) on Fragrantica. Santal 33 has 929 reviews, so I used that to set my benchmark. There are over 50 fragrances which meet this threshold, 29 of which are marketed female/unisex, so not exactly a well-curated capsule! I put the male-marketed ones in italics due to being less directly relevant to this sub.
There are some questionable redundancies on this list (multiple concentrations of Sauvage & Bleu de Chanel), but also some redundancies that I personally like. As someone who's sat out the BR540 trend so far, I think it'd be neat to sample both the original and one of the major knockoffs at some point, just to see if I can tell the difference. Also, there are some major omissions here that I could see people wanting to include in a 2010-2023 capsule: no Narciso, no Hermes, no female-marketed JPG, very limited niche picks, and no Bath & Body Works (on the border of fine fragrance, but hugely popular and undeniably a part of the general fragrance atmosphere).
Amouage Interlude Man
Ariana Grande Cloud
Armaf Club de Nuit Intense Man
Burberry Her, London for Men
By Kilian Angel's Share
Carolina Herrera Good Girl
Chanel Chance Eau Tendre, Coco Noir, Bleu de Chanel EDT, Bleu de Chanel EDP, Allure Homme Sport Eau Extreme
Creed Aventus
Dior Sauvage, Homme Intense 2011, Homme Parfum, Sauvage Elixir, Sauvage EDP, Homme 2020
Dolce&Gabbana The One for Men EdP
Elie Saab Le Parfum
Frederic Malle Portrait of a Lady
Giorgio Armani Si, Acqua di Gioia, Acqua di Gio Profumo
Gucci Guilty Absolute
Guerlain Mon Guerlain
Jean Paul Gaultier Ultra Male
Lancome La Vie Est Belle, La Nuit Tresor
Le Labo Santal 33
Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540, Grand Soir
Maison Martin Margiela By the Fireplace, Jazz Club (I think they used to market this one as masculine but have switched it to genderless)
Mancera Cedrat Boise
Montblanc Explorer
Mugler Womanity, Aura, Angel Muse, A\Men Pure Havane*
Paco Rabanne Olympea, Invictus
Parfums de Marly Delina, Layton, Herod
Prada Candy, L'Homme
Tom Ford Lost Cherry, Ombre Leather
Victor&Rolf Flowerbomb, Spicebomb, Spicebomb Extreme
Versace Eros, Dylan Blue
YSL Black Opium, Libre, Y
submitted by a_lang_face to FemFragLab [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 20:00 StressedPizzaEater Swedish Defense and Civil Defense Ministers trip to Ukraine

I've worked on translating this and correcting as much as possible what the AI translator got wrong.
This depicts the experience of the Swedish Defense and Civil Defense Ministers trip to Ukraine from a human level.

First Tweet
https://twitter.com/CarlOskastatus/1665700384784932867

We are in a secret location where soldiers are being trained for war. Sweden's Minister of Defense, Pål Jonson, and I are in Ukraine.
The temperature in the sandpit we descended into is approaching 30 degrees. The Ukrainian gnats are as big as small flies and occur at a frequency that makes a Swedish cloudberries bog feel as gnat-free as a winter day. The men in front of us each hold an AK-47 in their hands. On a given order, they raise their rifles and open fire towards each other. They aim and shoot at the sand wall just inches to the side of each other. With live ammunition at a distance of about 20 meters. We stand another 20 meters away without earmuffs. That alone would surely be a matter for a personnel responsibility board back home in a country with over 200 years of peace. But here, there is war. The young men who have just pointed loaded rifles at their comrades lacked military experience just a couple of weeks ago. In a few more weeks, they will be fully trained. But they won't be mustered out and travel in Asia for their conscription compensation. They will go directly to the front, and everyone knows that for some, it will be a one-way trip. There is a seriousness in the eyes of everyone we meet, but not a hint of despair.
We continue walking in the fine sand amidst the continuous and deafening clatter of automatic rifles. At regular intervals, the dull pounding is interrupted by the sound of tank salvos that strike deep in the pit of the stomach. All of this is framed by a lush Ukrainian early summer landscape. Amidst all the impressions, a kind of dissonance arises. What is beautiful, good, and meaningful takes lifetimes to build. It takes decades to build a cathedral, centuries to build a city, but it only takes a moment to destroy them. In some way, this transience manifests one of humanity's darkest asymmetries. This fragility is most clearly expressed in human life itself. Nothing is as vast, complex, and beautiful as life, yet it can be extinguished irreversibly with the slightest means in an instant. I think of the young men in front of me. Those who today would have been doing something entirely different if it weren't for their country currently facing an enemy that not only wants to use death and destruction as a political tool but to erase everything that is uniquely Ukrainian. The young men have just fired a salvo in the sand wall next to their comrades, not out of carelessness or recklessness, but because it is considered one of the few things that can give a mental sense and a semblance of preparation for the hellish torment that awaits them at the front.
It is the morning of May 26th. The night was spent in Kyiv, part of it in a shelter. The heavy Russian bombers fired cruise missiles during the night, and one of them was heading towards Kyiv. From the parking garage that served as our shelter, we could hear the air defense system, in the form of the American Patriot battery, working successfully. As we get into the cars, the convoy rolls northwest out of Kyiv. Alongside the wrecks of Russian tanks, triumphantly placed in Maidan Square, and sandbags in front of basement windows converted into shelters, the physical traces of war are almost non-existent in the city environment.
After a fifteen-minute drive, our cars stop. We are standing on a bridge abutment, but in front of us, where there used to be a bridge, there is now only an empty space about ten meters above the Irpin River. The gap is lined with twisted beams, reinforcement bars, and broken concrete elements. On the other side of the destroyed connection lie the suburbs of Irpin and Bucha, forever inscribed in the history books for the war crimes committed by Russian forces there. It was here, on the other side of the bridge abutment, that the Russian advance came to a halt. It was here that Kyiv was saved, here and in a few other places. I am shown pictures of the men who held the bridge abutment. Dressed in ordinary down jackets and armed with a mixed assortment of whatever was available. "History never repeats itself, but it rhymes," said Mark Twain. It was on this very river that the Red Army once fought against Hitler's Germany. Back then, the Russians defended themselves against Nazi brutal expansionism; now, 80 years later, it is a bitter, power-hungry Russia that is waging an unprovoked and flagrantly illegal war of aggression, with a narrative as twisted and damaged as the broken bridge element in front of us.
The bridge is already being rebuilt, but a few hundred meters away, the traces of what was irreversibly done are visible. After crossing the river on a temporary bridge, we stop at what looks like a gigantic scrapyard in a parking space. Stacked on top of each other are the wrecks of burned-out cars. Just over a year ago, these vehicles belonged to people fleeing for their lives. Most in vain. Small messages are written on the wrecked cars. Sunflowers, the symbol of Ukrainian resilience, are painted on the burned-out wrecks. When the bridge over the Irpin River was blown up, long lines of cars trying to escape were formed. While the evacuation was taking place, Russian forces indiscriminately fired into the rows of cars with civilians fleeing.
The man who receives us in front of the burned-out wrecks is the mayor of Irpin and the commander of the territorial defense for Irpin, a kind of equivalent to the home guard. Together with his counterparts in the suburbs around Kyiv, he was tasked with evacuating his municipality and defending Kyivagainst the Russian advance. Over 95 percent of Irpin's population was evacuated. Lives were saved to an extent that is difficult to comprehend, but in his gaze, there is also a testimony to those who could not, would not, or did not have time to be saved. For his efforts, he and his colleagues were awarded the "Nation's Hero" medal. It is hard to imagine a more deserving recipient of such an honor. He thanks us for the great support that Sweden has provided. Pål and I object, saying that it is we who owe him and everyone in his position a thank you for the immensely significant efforts they have made for their residents, for their country, and for all of Europe. We are told that we must continue our journey, but we would love to stay and express our gratitude and reverence even more. Irpin's strong man, in the most fitting sense of the word, receives a big hug from me and Pål before we roll on.
In the car, it is impossible not to think about municipal preparedness back home in Sweden. There is a lot of good being done in Preparedness Sweden, but often we encounter the objection that the state must open its wallet for the right things to happen, or in the worst case, for something to happen at all. The contrast to the meeting with the mayor of Irpin is monumental. Not once did he mention resources, even though he acted under a constant and ongoing existential resource shortage. Sweden's municipalities receive over 100 billion kronor in general state grants every year. I think about the core mission of municipalities and wish that more municipal politicians could also meet the mayor of Irpin and contemplate what truly constitutes the core activities of a municipality. Later that day, in my Twitter feed, I read about a medium-sized Swedish municipality that has 40 communication officers employed. Often, municipalities of the same size emphasize that they now have one preparedness officer, as if that is an achievement. Politics is about prioritizing.

Second tweet:
https://twitter.com/CarlOskastatus/1665701191135756291
We have just turned off the highway towards Chernihiv and made our way onto smaller and smaller roads. The cars are rolling through an avenue of trees reminiscent of central Sweden, but in the image of what could have been Sweden, there is also a foreign element between each tree. On knocked-down wooden stakes, there is a small plastic sign with the unmistakable skull against a high-contrast background. "Danger - Mines." Everything except the narrow gravel road is ventured upon with life thrown into the equation. What used to be productive fields on either side of the road has been transformed into a dangerous no-man's-land. The men who meet us when we step out of the cars are engaged in mine and ammunition clearance. Twenty meters behind us, subordinate personnel walk around in the ruins of what used to be a building. The on-site chief apologizes for a moment as he makes an announcement on the radio for everyone to cease their search activities to ensure that nothing happens while we walk around.
Beside us are fenced-off areas surrounded by knee-high plastic tape. Inside the boundaries lie several artillery shells. Visually, the enclosed area reminds me of the training facility I visited with the Prime Minister at the MSB (Swedish Civil Contingencies Agency) outside Kramfors in April. There, indicators and markings were practiced on various replicas of mines and grenades. However, in front of us today, there are no replicas, only live undetonated grenades. This morning's findings are recounted by a member of the team. In addition to regular mines and unexploded grenades, the Russians have booby-trapped where one least expects it. It can range from aircraft bombs placed in a basement connected to a door handle to a small amount of explosive hidden in a discarded lighter lying on the ground. There are also examples of how booby-trapping is placed under regular mines and even under or around dead bodies. The person in charge on-site raises his hands in the air and bluntly states, "At the rate we are currently able to clear and secure areas, it will take us 750 years to rid Ukraine of mines and unexploded ammunition." Sweden is already helping in this area, but it becomes apparent that we and everyone else should do more. I promise to bring the question home and investigate what we can do.
A short distance from the burned-out wrecks of agricultural machinery at the mined and now unusable fields lies the small village of Yahidne. When the Russian campaign began encountering resistance in the advance towards Kyiv, Yahidne became yet another scene of Russian barbarism. The village's school was converted into a Russian military command center, the surrounding buildings were leveled, and the village's 300 inhabitants, including women, children, and the elderly, were gathered and forced into the basement of the school. The following 28 days turned the basement into a concentration camp. The captured residents began to die because they were deprived of the most basic human need - sufficient access to oxygenated air. In an article about Yahidne, some surviving villagers describe how the school, up until the invasion, was the pride of the village. A point of gathering, a place of hope for the future. The young generation's ticket to a better life than their elders. But it didn't turn out that way. What remains now is the school building as a trauma for all those who survived the hell in the basement. A place few want to approach. A building that still stands, but was used to destroy an entire village. A ruin of what could have been, and a testimony to what instead became.
I like transformer stations. The revelation is likely not surprising to those who have followed me in my previous role as chairman of the Parliament's Committee on Industry. Now we have arrived at one of the major transformer stations that are crucial for the residents of Kyiv to receive their electricity, heating, and water. The location we are at is a prioritized target for Russian remote warfare. We look at fallen high-voltage lines and burnt-out transformers. A cat comes up to us and greets us. The CEO tells us that it lives in one of the newly built technical stations. The old one turned into a pile of debris after being hit by a Russian cruise missile, but the cat survived and doesn't seem to have any plans to leave. I think about the information warfare on social media and how the carefree cat, if it were known, could have become a symbol of Russian imperfection.
By targeting this location and others like it, Russia has repeatedly attempted to disrupt the Ukrainian power grid in order to break the Ukrainian resistance and defense will. What Ukrenergo, the Ukrainian counterpart to the Swedish power grid, has achieved during this ongoing war is unparalleled. In Sweden, we have sometimes had the notion that our power plants are the most prioritized targets for military attacks, which has led, among other things, to the unfounded conclusion that we would need to shut down our nuclear power plants in times of heightened readiness. Anyone who knows how the power system works could tell you that this is a mistaken assumption, which is also confirmed by the outcome in Ukraine. Power plants are difficult to combat, but substations, transformer stations, and junction points are essentially easier targets. By attacking transformer stations linked to major consumption points, one not only causes significant problems for all downstream electricity consumers, but also creates imbalances that can propagate throughout the system and, in the worst case, destroy and disable the entire or parts of the power supply in a country.
The CEO tells us about the relentless race against time during the winter, repairs during ongoing remote warfare, and the ability to proactively shut down parts of the power system to better handle the imbalances caused by disabled junction points in the system. Ukraine's power system partly resembles the power system Sweden had in the 1980s—robust and predominantly based on predictable electricity production. This has been crucial for Ukraine to successfully endure the winter against all odds. Heavy predictable electricity production not only makes the power system less susceptible to disruptions but also makes it easier to sectionalize and run parts of the system in what is called emergency operation when other parts are vulnerable or have stopped functioning. This has enabled Ukraine to proactively shut down parts of the power grid during remote warfare, reducing the risk of disturbances spreading and damaging the entire system. Heavy predictable production is also one of the prerequisites for restarting the power system after a grid collapse. Sweden has reason to draw several lessons from what we have seen in Ukraine. Several of these are manifested in the parts of the Tidö Agreement concerning energy policy. In addition to this, the importance of reserve components and a well-functioning air defense cannot be emphasized enough to protect the power system from the pressures that an armed attack brings.
When we enter the room where Ukraine's Minister of Defense Oleksii Reznikov receives us, it is immediately noticeable that he has a warm and close relationship with Pål. Reznikov is interested in motorsports, and instead of the usual customary gifts, Pål has managed to arrange a pair of racing gloves signed by none other than Kenny Bräck, whom Pål knows from Värmland.
When Pål visited Reznikov already in December, they traveled together to Odesa and Mykolajiv. The Swedish Minister of Defense was then the minister in all of Europe who had traveled furthest east in Ukraine. If Pål had been able to decide for himself, without the involvement of Säpo, we would surely have been well on our way to the front to visit soldiers in the trenches by now.
I may be biased since we are colleagues, but before taking office, I didn't know Pål in any deeper detail. Behind an occasionally soft-spoken and strict demeanor, there is a person with material orientation and thematic knowledge at a level unique to the role, and a work ethic and drive that simply cannot be found everywhere. No other Defense Minister in modern times has had as many significant parallel commitments on their plate. NATO membership, a war in Europe with the development of military support packages, EU presidency, and the management of increased defense budgets. The conversation with Reznikov is candid and serious at the same time. We talk about the military support from Sweden that is coming soon and what the future needs look like.
It is time to move on from the Ministry of Defense to the place where we will meet with the President of Ukraine. It is not possible to overestimate Volodymyr Zelensky's importance for the determination and Ukrainian successes after February 24, 2022. No one knows exactly where we are going except the Ukrainian security service leading the way ahead of us. Checkpoints and security checks follow one another. Finally, Pål, myself, and the Swedish Ambassador, Tobias Thyberg, sit alone in a waiting room. After a short while, the door opens, and we are welcomed inside. Zelensky has a firm handshake and a presence in the room that is unparalleled. He thanks Sweden for everything we do, and we discuss the future. Our bilateral meeting was scheduled for fifteen minutes, but the conversation lasted for half an hour. We are escorted out of the building whose interior had clearly been transformed to meet the demands of war.
Last tweet:
https://twitter.com/CarlOskastatus/1665701959825752066
The final visit to Chernihiv is coming to an end. We have just been shown young men and women who are undergoing training to become mine and UXO clearers. The commander on site leads us into an adjacent building and says that it is finally time for some entertainment. In a large auditorium where we are the only guests, a military orchestra is lined up on the stage. To the right, on a big screen, a slideshow with the Swedish and Ukrainian flags is playing. As we sit down, we find out that many members of the orchestra are fighting on the front lines. Like everyone else, they have also suffered losses. The orchestra begins to play, and it is impossible to remain unaffected. Here I am, in a country at war, which has suffered so many hardships, listening to an orchestra playing ABBA for me and Sweden's Minister of Defense. It is impossible not to love Ukraine.
On the way home, I sit alone with Pål and summarize the impressions. There is so much that touches deeply. We talk about defense willingness and the importance of trying to increase understanding of what the security situation means and can mean for Sweden in every given situation. The Baltic countries have a gloomy view of what lies ahead. We talk about the mayor of Irpin and his men in territorial defense who fought with what they had and contributed to Kyivnever falling during the critical first days. Pål summarizes frankly: "It's about making a decision from the beginning, you have to give everything right away and fight hard, so damn hard. It hurts, but there is no alternative."
Carl-Oskar Bohlin
Minister for Civil Defense, Sweden
submitted by StressedPizzaEater to ukraine [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 17:34 scottwsx96 Nice leather wallet for Europe?

I am looking for recommendations for a quality, relatively compact, durable, men's leather wallet that can easily hold Euros, including €100 and €50 bills, plus 2-3 credit cards. I don't really need extras that take up space like a picture ID spot since no one cares about my US drivers license anyway. Bonus if I can order it from a US retailer in USD rather than importing, but importing isn't out of the question.
I recently returned from a trip to Europe and found that my Trafalgar credit card wallet that I use in the US. to be completely inadequate and a PITA. I use credit cards exclusively but found that out needed to use cash in about 90% of my purchases in Europe. My current wallet doesn't even hold US bills completely inside, forget about €50 and €20. I had to fold them up and it was a real pain getting them out each time.
I looked on Amazon and it looks like a crapshoot on there and I don't trust the quality or authenticity.
submitted by scottwsx96 to travel [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 15:53 sfaccim420 Movie where these two guys steal cheeseburgers

It was a movie, had a black guy and a white guy in it. The black guy and the white guy are hungry, so they knock on the door of somebody's apartment and find them eating cheeseburgers, so the black guy comes in and starts screaming a bunch of racial slurs. They shoot the men and take the cheeseburgers. Later in the movie they're at a diner and this English guy interrupts the black guy's lunch by doing an insensitive Indian accent in front of the whole diner, so the black guy chokeslams him through a table and then gives him his wallet that says "fuck" on it. Any idea what this could be?
submitted by sfaccim420 to NameThatMovie [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 15:15 berryskye Sailor Mars (Rei Hino) ❤️‍🔥🏹⛩ Inspired Fragrances

Sailor Mars (Rei Hino) ❤️‍🔥🏹⛩ Inspired Fragrances
"I am the Pretty Guardian who fights for Love and for Passion. I am Sailor Mars! In the Name of Mars, I'll chastise you!" ❤️‍🔥🔥
This is a perfume tray inspired by Rei Hino AKA Sailor Mars. She represents Fire & Passion 🔥🏹. Her entire personality screams "Aries" to me ♈️! She's hot-headed, stubborn, yet also fiercely loyal to those she loves. She is spiritual and traditional, and works at her grandfather's shrine as a shrine priestess ⛩. Because of her deep-rooted spirituality and fiery personality (pun intended), I wanted to choose perfumes that were timeless, elegant, and incensey. Her fondness for all things traditional made me feel inspired to choose the classic red rose 🌹 as her signature floral scent.
Random Fun Sailor Mars quotes:
🏹 "Only old men think men are better than women these days."
🏹"I'm not insulting you. I'm just describing you."
Perfumes:
Amouage Rose Incense: dark, woody, and incensey rose
Atelier des Ors Rose Omeyyade: sweet jammy raspberry rose with an oudy undertone. GORGEOUS gold sparkles that kinda looks like the flickering of fire.
Cartier Le Baiser Du Dragon: smells like the inside of a traditional Asian thrift shop, complete with incense. Old-school and vintage
Carolina Herrera Very Good Girl: looks like Sailor Mar's famous signature red heels! Fruity lychee rose
Jo Malone Scarlet Poppy: elegant, classy, and very slightly mature. Smells like powdery raspberry lipstick
Solstice Scents Séance: very headshoppy; smells like you're performing a seance and/or like an Asian temple, complete with the smoke and incense.
BDK Parfums Rouge Smoking: cherry cola with a light powderiness
Wylde Ivy Fireborn: smoky and woody, like a forest on fire. Perfect for a girl that wields fire.
Room 1015 Cherry Punk: Lost Cherry but with more leather. Sailor Mars is a total badass so she deserves a badass cherry leather scent!
submitted by berryskye to FemFragLab [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 14:48 Tbeeb Business card holder

Business card holder
Bought this really lovely genuine wallet/card holder from a reliable second hand luxury goods seller on eBay for £85. My director at work actually has the same wallet and I couldn’t stop looking at it when he placed it on the table last week…I wanted one as soon I saw how gentleman like it looked.
The condition is used but feels and looks as new as you can get, i don’t think the previous owner got much use from this at all.
I can’t believe how great the leather feels and how high quality and substantial this card holder feels. Really happy.
I was actually looking at a Louis Vuitton black men’s wallet but was instantly turned off when I learnt that the particular variant I liked wasn’t even 100% leather…. Rather leather and mix of canvas and PU coating.
Recently I’ve developed a bit of an affinity for Mont Blanc leather goods, they claim to use 100% calfskin in all their products but more so the design of their leather bags and goods are just so simple and elegant , they don’t scream for attention but at the same time gather all the attention
submitted by Tbeeb to montblanc [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 12:25 knavechild New Zealand Government releases proposal to set up Ministry of Truth

"New Zealand Government releases proposal to set up Ministry of Truth" https://expose-news.com/2023/06/04/new-zealand-government-set-up-ministry-of-truth/
The New Zealand Department of Internal Affairs has released a consultation document containing proposed changes to censorship procedures. Read a sobering commentary by the Free Speech Union HERE.
The proposals include the appointment of a chief regulator who will be empowered to decide whether online content – including social media posts – is “harmful.” To do so, he will be empowered to make up his own “guidelines” without the input of parliament. The proposals will also allow fines exceeding NZ$200,000 to be levied on those who don’t comply with his ideas.

What Exactly Will the Regulator’s Draconian Powers Replace?

These are all principles which have underpinned our way of life for centuries. The proposed censorship threatens to take us back to the Middle Ages when you could find out whether the wise woman village herbalist was a witch or not by asking your local misogynist wizard.
This proposed legislation has all the hallmarks of a parliament intent on extending its powers, preserving its majority, protecting itself from criticism, and isolating itself from ordinary people. A parliament that has miserably failed to keep up with covid science publishing, instead persisting with slogan politics, under a leader who struggles to define a biological woman.

So Where Did This Madness Originate?

For the last hundred years, it has not escaped insightful social commentators that at some point humankind would become subject to ruthless power and nameless technology. Visionaries include film director Fritz Lang, writers Franz Kafka, Aldous Huxley, George Orwell, and many others since. Frank Herbert writing in 1965 wrote in Dune:
Men turned their thinking over to machines in the hope that this would set them free. But that only permitted the men with machines to enslave them”
In the prehistory of Dune’s fictional world, a war driven by technology led to a revolution and the creation of a new generation of schools which trained human minds to fully develop. This is not without very real lessons for us today. The widespread use of computers in schools and businesses has trained the whole population to accept the word of computers controlled by invisible hands with suspect motives.

Even the Most Sophisticated Computers Cannot Sort Right from Wrong

We all laughed readily at the TV parody in Little Britain “the computer says no”, little realising how deep the authority of computers was establishing itself in our daily lives.
Education has historically been fundamentally a person-to-person process with opportunities to ask questions. We all remember that one teacher who resonated more than the others. The replacement of many functions of teachers with computers has impoverished education. It has trained us to accept and learn a rote answer. It has taught us that if we disagree with the official answer, we are always wrong.
Fundamentally, the educational process has diverged from the ordinary process of thinking. Computers have important limitations. They are based on binary architecture – Yes or No, Right or Wrong. Human thinking allows for a nuanced middle way, computers struggle to do so.
In fact, real physical processes evolve in a virtual abstract Hilbert space of all possible paths. Physical law is constantly calculating a path of least action and it is capable of entertaining multiple possibilities and postponing any decision affecting an impending event until the last possible moment. Nature thinks like we actually do – it explores before deciding, it remembers the past, it entertains immutable truths and it can create. No computer can think originally like that, it is controlled by inputs and limited by its binary construction.
In fact, computers can be trained to lie, and it is happening all around us today. A lawyer at a New York law firm has admitted using ChatGPT to source relevant prior court decisions which bolstered his case. The court discovered they were bogus, just imaginative creations of a form of artificial intelligence programmed to try to please.

Regulation is Already in the Hands of Manipulated Computers

Any regulator, empowered to decide what is right or wrong in the modern era, will ultimately rely on the advice of computers programmed, as Frank Herbert suggested, by people who wish to enslave the world. Government offices are plumbed into international networks and databases providing ready-made content, opinions, and decisions. Networks funded by mega corporations or political power bases with suspect motivations guided by profit and foreign ideology.
The spectacle of Kiri Allan, Minister of Justice, reading the wrong speech to a nodding Parliament this week says it all. She was supposed to be speaking in support of the third reading of the Freedom Camping Bill, instead, she read from a speech in support of the second reading of the Self-Contained Motor Vehicles bill. Only two opposition MPs noticed the error. Minister Allan was oblivious. Her eventual excuse given to the NZ Herald: “I was handed the wrong speech.”
It is not too far a stretch to realise that the New Zealand Parliament has been handed covid policy to enact without question, sleepwalking the country to economic ruin, social polarisation, and record levels of hospitalisation and excess deaths.
Last week, the World Health Organisation (“WHO”) released a scientific paper warning that covid vaccines could play a role in the development of multiple sclerosis (watch a detailed report HERE). So, this is from WHO, one of the world’s most pro-vaccine organisations, but still, the computerised fact checkers immediately screamed “false” – they had been pre-programmed to negate any doubts about covid vaccine safety.
This is the kind of programmable world in which politicians feel comfortable. A world in which opinion is regulated and inconvenient truth is cancelled at will. Timothy Snyder’s book ‘On Tyranny’ expresses it very well:
To abandon facts is to abandon freedom. If nothing is true, then no one can criticise power, because there is no basis upon which to do so. If nothing is true, then all is spectacle. The biggest wallet pays for the most blinding lights.
The dangers are not minor, Heinrich Heine writing exactly 200 years ago in his book ‘In Der Fremdein a foreign land’, presciently wrote:
Where they have burned books, they will end up burning human beings.
Parliament now wishes to legislate for the control of New Zealand’s voice, our voice. They are pressing the mute button. Where that ultimately leads and where we are all eventually left will doubtless be an inhospitable landscape.
https://expose-news.com/2023/06/04/new-zealand-government-set-up-ministry-of-truth/
submitted by knavechild to ConservativeKiwi [link] [comments]


2023.06.05 09:26 Good_Acanthaceae_110 212 VIP Perfume by Carolina Herrera for Women

212 VIP Perfume by Carolina Herrera for Women
212 vip perfume is type of eau de perfume and designer for caroline and present by new york and this perfume is iconic perfume better then other perfume and she has vip to get clubs and restaurant and size is 50 ml and 80 ml and perfume represented by women confident who perfume has independent life and classical life this is strong executive power and that's personality reflect and his uses and that's top notes are: gardenia’ musk and rum base notes are vanilla and tonka bean and benzion. This is used for parties and functions and family functions.
https://preview.redd.it/21rr6yfvi54b1.jpg?width=206&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5f468b8df85ea22087b2d1ce4d243c6f7d405af7
submitted by Good_Acanthaceae_110 to u/Good_Acanthaceae_110 [link] [comments]