What she wants to say:
I wanted to tell you one story. Uh. This is the story of the best meal I’ve ever had in my life, okay. Happened when I was eleven years old in Chicago, IL where I grew up. I went to a place called the Salt & Pepper Diner, uh, with my best friend John. We walk into the diner one day, and they had a jukebox there, okay? And the jukebox was three plays for a dollar. So we put in 7 dollars and selected 21 plays of of Tom Jones’s What’s New Pussycat. And then we ordered and waited.
Here’s the thing about when, uh, What’s New Pussycat plays over and over and over and over and over again. The second time it plays, your immediate thought is not ‘hey someone’s playing What’s New Pussycat again.’ It’s ‘hey, What’s New Pussycat is a lot longer than I first thought. The third time it plays you’re thinking maybe someone’s playing What’s New Pussycat again. The fourth time it plays you’re either thinking ‘whoa someone just played What’s New Pussycat FOUR TIMES or at least someone played it twice, and it’s a really long song.’ So the fifth time is the kicker, alright?
Now, John and I we’re watching the entire diner at this point, alright? Most people have gotten wind as to what’s going on. And we’re staring at this one guy and he’s sitting in like a booth with his stupid kids jumping around, and he’s like staring at his coffee cup like this, and he’s been onto us since the beginning. And he’s sitting there, and his hand is shaking, and he had this look on his face like, aw, like he had just gotten his thirty day chip from anger management. And he’s staring like this, and the fourth song fades out. It’s dead quiet. Then, I don’t know if you know this, but the song begins very quietly…
BWAAAH BWAAAAAH WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT and he goes GOD DAMN IT and pounds on the table, silverware flies everywhere, and it was fantastic. But a word about my best friend John and what a genius he was because when we first walked into the diner, okay? When we first got there and I’m punching in the What’s New Pussycats alright? I’ve punched in like 7 at this point then John says to me ‘hey hey hey before you punch in another What’s New Pussycat let’s drop in one It’s Not Unusual.’
Oh yes. That is when the afternoon went from good to great. After seven What’s New Pussycats. In a row - It played seven times. Suddenly - Dum da dum, IT’S NOT UNUSUAL and the sigh of relief that swept through the diner. People were so happy. It was like the liberation of France. You know for years scientists have wondered can you make grown men and women weep tears of joy by playing Tom Jones’s It’s Not Unusual and the answer is yes you can. Provided that it is preceded by seven What’s New Pussycats. It’s true. Dead honest.
And on the other hand. When we went back. Holy shit. It’s Not Unusual fade out. It’s dead quiet. BWAAAH BWAAAAH WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT people went insane. People went out of their minds. No one could handle it. No one could handle it. And they were surrounded by this seemingly indifferent staff that was just like ‘yup some crap as always.’
They unplugged the jukebox after eleven plays. And that was the best meal I ever had.
Today in history: November 18, 1803 - The Battle of Vertières, the last major battle of the Haitian Revolution, is fought, leading to the establishment of the Republic of Haiti, the first Black republic in the Western Hemisphere.
The battle delivered the final blow to the French attempt to re-institute slavery, as they had done in the other parts of the Caribbean. This decisive blow was a major loss for France and it’s colonial empire.
The Haitian Revolution helped inspire slave rebellions in the United States and British colonies, and struck deep fear in the minds of the slaveholders and colonizers.
(image: Scene of the Battle of Vertières, engraved in 1845)
Via Freedom Road Socialist Organization (Fight Back)
The words for the Algerian National Anthem were originally written in a French jail in Algeria by a poet affiliated with the Algerian liberation movement. Because he didn’t have access to any writing material, he wrote the words in his own blood on the walls of his jail cell.
On this day in 1890, French military and political leader Charles de Gaulle was born in Lille. De Gaulle was raised in Paris, and in 1909 enrolled in the prestigious Saint-Cyr military academy. In his first deployment, de Gaulle was commanded by Colonel Philippe Pétain, who would later became famous for his leadership of the collaborationist Vichy regime. De Gaulle served with distinction during the First World War, and was captured during the Battle of Verdun in 1916. After the war, de Gaulle advanced through the ranks to serve on France’s Supreme War Council, and wrote widely about what he perceived to be France’s military weaknesses, largely due to an overreliance on the Maginot Line. After the outbreak of the Second World War, de Gaulle continued to advance professionally, becoming brigadier general and undersecretary for defense and war. However, after France’s invasion by the Nazis in 1940 and the subseqeunt surrender and collaboration of Petain’s regime, de Gaulle fled to England rather than accept France’s capitulation. With support from Prime Minister Winston Churchill, de Gaulle led the Free French movement and a government in exile, urging his countrymen to resist the Nazis and organising colonial soldiers to continue the fight. After liberation in 1944, the popular de Gaulle - who received a hero’s welcome in liberated Paris - became president of the French provisional government. At the war’s close, de Gaulle successfully secured his nation an occupation zone in the defeated Germany and a seat on the United Nation’s Security Council. De Gaulle soon resigned the presidency, however, after his desires for a strong executive were rejected, and retired from politics in 1953. However, as the government crumbled, the famed leader stepped in and became president of the Fifth Republic government in 1959. A dedicated nationalist, President de Gaulle pushed for French independence from the two Cold War superpowers, even withdrawing from NATO in 1966, and asserted French military strength through a nuclear weapons programme. Controversially, he also supported Algerian independence following a series of colonial uprisings. De Gaulle retired in 1969, amid rising protests and calls for reform, and died in November 1970. Charles de Gaulle was mourned as a national hero who, even in the dark days of the Second World War, dedicated himself to the freedom and independence of France.
“Paris outraged! Paris
broken! Paris martyred! But Paris liberated!
Liberated by itself, liberated by its people
with the help of the French armies, with the
support and the help of all France, of the
France that fights, of the only France, of the
real France, of the eternal France!” - Charles de Gaulle after the liberation of Paris on August 25th 1944
god i remember watching liberty’s kids in class in the 4th grade. that was a magical time. the teacher would wheel in a tv on a cart during history class and we knew. It was time for motherfucking liberty’s kids. The teacher would get real quiet too, cause she was afraid. Afraid of the unbridled passion we felt for this show. “Time to watch some liberty’s kids” she’d say real quietly. People were ecstatic. It was like the liberation of France. You’d hear cacophonous screams across the room, so loud kids in other classes would know we were watching mother fucking liberty’s kids. One kid got thrown out the window. We saw him lying on the pavement. He sat up. “FUCK YEAH LIBERTY’S KIDS!”
Hillary Clinton has become that annoying aunt who shows up to every event and complains about how awful her life is.
Last Sunday, the former Secretary of State chimed in on Twitter to express her support for Emmanuel Macron’s victory in France’s presidential election. She states, “Victory for Macron, for France, the EU, & the world.”
Sure, if that’s how she sees it, that’s fine.
Then she says, “Defeat to those interfering w/democracy.”
Okay, that’s not objectionable. Any rational person would agree with such sentiment that foreign entities getting involved in other nation’s elections is wrong (of course there’s the assumption that Russia tried to interfere with France’s election like they did with the US election).
But then she added this, “(But the media says I can’t talk about that)”.
She took a swipe at the media because they dared to criticize her marathon of excuses she gave for losing the election. She always says that she takes “personal responsibility” but repeatedly blames James Comey, Russia, misogyny, the media, literally everyone and everything she can think of. She even said before Comey sent his letter to Congress, she was “on her way to winning.” Such arrogance.
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, there is ZERO proof that Comey’s letter changed the outcome of the election nor is there any proof Russia’s hacking of the DNC and John Podesta emails did the same. Could they have? Maybe, but you can’t prove it.
But this latest tweet of hers encapsulates how awful she was as a presidential candidate and how big of a sore loser she currently is.
Hillary Clinton will go down as the worst presidential candidate in US history. She’s a dishonest, calculating, artificial, narcissistic, power-hungry, corrupt, career politician who represented everything that was wrong with D.C. politics and she epitomized the status quo in a change election. Plus, she ran a terrible campaign!
The left applauds her lifetime of work and attack individuals like Ivanka Trump for relying on nepotism for her pivotal role in the White House as one of President Trump’s closest advisors, but what they don’t acknowledge is that Hillary Clinton’s entire career was completely dependent on her husband. Since her days as First Lady of Arkansas, she relied on Bill Clinton, who was a far more likable and charming person, and road on his coattails to the White House. Do you honestly think she would have been elected Senator in New York or have two presidential campaigns without her husband’s political machine? And while she was failing miserably as our Secretary of State, she was reaping the benefits at The Clinton Foundation that Bill was running. Without her husband, she’s nothing, which was exactly why she stood by him after the Monica Lewinsky scandal. No woman whether it be Lewinsky, or Jennifer Flowers, or Juanita Broaddrick, or Kathleen Willey, or Paula Jones would come between Hillary Clinton and her political future. But in the end, the only woman that came between Hillary Clinton and her political future was Hillary Clinton.
What she struggles with the most is that she is desperately trying to stay relevant. She can do speech after speech, launch a Super PAC, or put out these moronic tweets, but the appeal she once had with most Americans is gone. She’s trying to fit in with the cool kids by joining the anti-Trump “resistance,” but even those people don’t want her. And what’s hilarious is that the more attention she draws herself, the more it hurts the Democratic Party. So Democrats of all people should be the ones who pull the plug on Hillary Clinton because she’s on her political death bed.
The best part about all of this is that Hillary Clinton still thinks she’s the victim. She not only believes the presidency was stolen from her, she was owed the presidency. All she wanted was power and all she got was rejection not once but twice. She’s the type of person that would go up to group of Syrian refugee orphans and demand them to pity her. If her self-victimhood is what helps her sleep at night, so be it. Meanwhile, she can enjoy the millions of dollars she’ll continue to rake in from paid speeches and book deals, a lifetime of Secret Service protection, enjoy time with her two grandchildren, and never have to cook, clean, or drive anywhere ever again. She has it rough, right?
Within the span of six months, she went from saying “I’m Hillary Clinton and I approve this message” to “I’m Hillary Clinton and I hate my life.”
The first time I BC’d I cried, and my intentions were different. My aura was different. This time around I felt liberated. I felt like weight had been lifted; literally and metaphorically. I was elated. I had been contemplating cutting my hair again for a whole year, and finally went ahead and did it. First 5 inches. Then 4 more. Then I went all the way.
14 inches gone. Finally reached armpit length, and I chopped all that shit off with glee.
The shortest my hair has ever been, yet the most feminine and beautiful I’ve ever felt. The most confident I’ve ever felt in my own skin. The most in love I’ve ever been with my face, my hair, my complexion, myself.
I read an article from a lady stating that when a woman cuts her hair, she is cutting away more than just dead matter from her head; she’s also cutting away dead habits, dead thought processes, dead relationships, and dead ways of being. It is a form of self-renewal, and I feel that to be so true for me now.
If I had to choose one word to sum up this whole journey I’m on, it would be freedom: freedom from constraints, freedom from redundancy, freedom from playing small, freedom from self-defeating behavior, and freedom from stagnancy. Freedom to love and accept myself completely as I am, and to fall in love with each new version of myself I evolve into along the way.