old hu


Full view for easy reading/If you don’t it’ll bout out of order omg.

Look at these dumb dorks ahh. In the wise words and prompting of kazethecursedone: “Oreshi with a major crush composing love poetry in the shared mindspace and just going on and on about how pretty and perfect his boyfriend is until Bokushi’s like, FINE, shut the fuck up! I’m going to see for myself how perfect and amazing this guy really is and taking over. [the body, and just]Fuck he’s hot.”


“Killing is killing whether done for duty, profit or fun.”

The Tale of The Nightstalker

Richard Ramirez’s reign of terror lasted from July 1984 to August 1985 and left 14 people dead.

Ramirez prowled the small towns of Southern California and San Francisco. He would break into random houses and terrorize the occupants. If a couple lived there, Ramirez would shoot the man dead first, then beat and rape the woman. He would demand to know where they kept their valuables. A Satanist, Ramirez would force her to “swear on Satan” when she said there were no more valuables for him to take. Sometimes he would let his victims live.

Ramirez had no preference as far as victim type was concerned. He preyed on the elderly, women, children and men. He also used various methods to kill – strangulation, shooting and bludgeoning.

Born in El Paso, Texas on February 29, 1960 to Julian and Mercedes Ramirez, he was the youngest of five children.

Julian Ramirez was known to have a violent temper and was abusive. Richard Ramirez suffered two significant head injuries as a child. At age 2, a dresser fell on top of him and was hit with a swing and knocked unconscious at age 5. After the last severe injury, Ramirez began to have epileptic seizures, which lasted until early adolescence.

Ramirez began to fall under the influence of his cousin Miguel (Mike) Ramirez at age 12.

Mike Ramirez was a decorated Army Green Beret. He shared gruesome stories of raping and murdering women during his time serving in Vietnam. Cousin Mike even showed young Richie photos he took of the terrified women tied to trees as he was about to rape them and of him posing with the severed head of one of his victims.

In May of 1973, Ramirez witnessed his cousin shoot and kill his wife, Jesse. After witnessing the murder, Ramirez withdrew from family and friends. He went to live with his sister Ruth, whose husband Roberto was a peeping tom. Roberto brought Ramirez on his nighttime excursions to peep at women. Ramirez also began experimenting with drugs at this time.

Mike Ramirez was committed to a mental institution and was released in 1977.

Ramirez’s criminal behavior began during adolescence when he was working at a Holiday Inn. He began burglarizing customers’ rooms. Ramirez lost his job after he was caught in the act of raping a woman in her room. Her husband returned to the room just in time and beat Ramirez.  The couple refused to press charges because they lived out of state and didn’t want to return to Texas to testify against him.

Ramirez completed the 9th grade and dropped out of high school. He moved to California at age 22.

The first murder Ramirez committed wasn’t discovered until 2009 through a DNA match. The victim was 9-year-old Mei Leung who was found beaten, raped and stabbed to death in a hotel basement on April 10, 1984 in San Francisco.

Ramirez’s next victim was 79-year-old Jennie Vincow. He broke into her apartment in Glassell Park. Ramirez stabbed her to death, slashing her throat and almost decapitating her.

Ramirez attacked three women, killing two of them on March 17, 1985. Ramirez shot 22-year-old Maria Hernandez in the face. She put her hands up defensively and her keys deflected the bullet, saving her life. Her roommate, 34-year-old Dale Okazaki, wasn’t as lucky. Ramirez shot her in the head, killing her. An hour later, he pulled 30-year-old Veronica Hu from her car and shot her to death.

The three attacks and two murders in one day attracted the attention of the media. Maria Hernandez was also able to provide a description.

Ramirez returned to a home he robbed one year before on March 27, 1985. He killed Vincent Zazzara, 64, shooting him in the head as he slept on the couch. Zazzara’s wife, 44-year-old, Maxine was beaten by Ramirez. He tied her hands and demanded her to tell him where her valuables were. As Ramirez ransacked her home, Maxine managed to get out of her bonds and got a shotgun that was under the bed. When she pulled the trigger, she found it wasn’t loaded.

The fact that Maxine Zazzara had threatened Ramirez with a shotgun enraged him. He shot her to death then decided he wanted part of her. Ramirez got a butcher knife from the kitchen and mutilated her, cutting out her eyes and placing them in a jewelry box.

Ramirez left behind a shoe print in a flowerbed, later identified as a pair of Avia sneakers. The murder of the Zazzaras was linked to the previous crimes by bullets recovered at the scene.

Ramirez would claim his next victim on May 14, 1985. He beat Bill Doi, 66, to death. He bound his disabled wife, Lillian, 56, with thumbcuffs. then robbed the Doi’s home and raped her. Lillian Doi survived the attack to provide a description.

His next victims were Mabel “Ma” Bell, 83, and her sister Florence “Nettie” Lang, 81. Ramirez bludgeoned Lang with a hammer and tied her up. He did the same to Bell, then shocked her with an electrical cord. He raped Lang and drew a pentagram with lipstick on her inner thigh and on the bedroom wall. Bell and Lang were found alive two days later. Bell didn’t survive her injuries.

Ramirez broke into the home of Carol Kyle, 42, the day after his attack on Bell and Lang. He handcuffed Kyle and her 11-year-old son together, then proceeded to ransack the house.

He then unbound Kyle and demanded she show him where the valuables were. Ramirez put her son in the closet, then repeatedly sodomized his mother. He took the child from the closet, then handcuffed him to his mother again before leaving.

Ramirez’s home invasions would continue, leaving a trail of rape and murder that would come to an end in August 1985.

Police had ballistic and shoeprint evidence that matched up with other Night Stalker crime scenes. During a press conference the Mayor of San Francisco leaked an important piece of evidence – the Avia shoe print. Investigators found the particular sneaker was rare. It was a new type of sneaker and only one pair had been delivered to the Los Angeles area. Of course, detectives knew the perpetrator would hear about it and get rid of the sneakers.

 Ramirez was definitely following the media coverage of his crimes. On Aug. 24, 1985, he broke into the home of Bill Carns, 30, and his fiancée Inez Erickson, 29. Before Ramirez left, he told Erickson, “Tell them the Night Stalker was here.”

 As he left their home, a neighbor, 13-year-old James Romero III recognized Ramirez as the “weird looking guy in black” he had seen earlier that night. Suspicious, he wrote down as much as he could of the license plate of the stolen orange Toyota Ramirez was driving.  When he heard about the attack on the neighbors, Romero told his parents about Ramirez and had the partial license plate number. Erickson also provided a vivid description of her attacker to investigators.

 The abandoned Toyota was found on Aug. 28 and a fingerprint was found on the rearview mirror. The print was traced to Ramirez because of earlier arrests for traffic and drug violations. Investigators released a mug shot of Ramirez from a previous arrest for car theft in December 1984.

Ramirez wasn’t aware that his face was now known to the public.  He had been in Arizona visiting his brother. When he returned to Los Angeles and stopped at a convenience store. Ramirez noticed his face staring back at him from a news rack after he overheard an elderly woman call him “El Matador” (the killer). Residents began to recognize him. He ran from the store and tried to carjack a woman. He was chased away by witnesses who ran after him. An angry mob who recognized him from the papers formed and chased Ramirez. He was hit in the head with a metal bar. The group held Ramirez until police arrived.

Ramirez was convicted of 13 counts of murder, five attempted murders, 11 sexual assaults and 14 burglaries. He was sentenced to death but the sentence would never be carried out. Richard Ramirez died of cancer on June 7, 2013.


Words matter. Especially in Iran where what is permissible — to say, to do, to be seen to say or do — is an ever changing thing.

It took us many years of trying to finally be allowed in to Iran, the country with whom we have probably the most contentious relationship on earth. At the time, we thought that perhaps, our welcome was an indicator of a new attitude, an opening of a window. But as it turned out, that is probably not the case. The window appeared to slam shut in particularly ugly fashion shortly after our departure.

What we saw, what we came back with, is a deeply confusing story. Because the Iran you see from the inside, once you walk the streets of Tehran, meet Iranians, is a very different place than the Iran we know from the news. Nowhere else I’ve been has the disconnect between what one sees and feels from the people and what one sees and hears from the government been so extreme.

Iran’s official attitude towards America, its policies, its actions in the region, are a matter of record. How it treats its own citizens as far as their personal behaviors is also, a matter of record. You do not want to be perceived as behaving inappropriately in Iran — as we have seen with the recent video of kids dancing along to the song, “Happy.” And what is inappropriate is an ever shifting thing. What the “government” or the president says is okay one day, might be deemed dangerous or unacceptable by the clergy or the “basij”, the roving, unofficial but official religious police, on another — as we came to find out.

I’m going to be careful about what I say here. Even here.
Like I said. Words have consequences.
Not for me. I can go to China, for instance, and come back, and say whatever I want about Tibet or human rights without fear. But what about the people I leave behind? The ones who were kind to me, helped me, innocently put their trust in me and my crew to not hurt them? That is something I think very seriously about — and its something we are very careful to not do: put people in harm’s way for no other crime than associating with us. Innocence, in much of the world, is, sadly, no defense against accusations..and worse.

One of the reasons this episode is deeply confusing might be because the “vibe” in Iran, the general feeling of walking down the streets, through the markets, the way we were received everywhere by total strangers and passersby, was overwhelmingly friendly. I have said that Iran is the most outgoingly warm, “pro-American” place we’ve ever shot — and that’s true: in Tehran, in spite of the fact that you are standing in front of a giant, snarling mural that reads “DEATH TO AMERICA!”, you will, we found, usually be treated better by strangers — meaning smiles, offers of assistance, curious attempts to engage in limited English, greetings and expressions of general good will — than anywhere in Western Europe. It would be hard to imagine strangers in Germany or France or England, on recognizing you as American, giving you a thumbs up and a smile simply for your nationality. That was overwhelmingly the case in Iran.

We were having an off camera gathering to celebrate our producer Tom Vitale’s birthday at a restaurant in Tehran. When the other diners heard there was a birthday at our table, the whole dining room sang us Happy Birthday in farsi and English. This was not an isolated incident, only one example. Our daily experiences were filled with delightful incongruities.

At the time we were there, the mood was cautiously hopeful for a time where we, Americans and Iranians, might see more of each other in the near future. Iran, it should be pointed out, is very beautiful. The food is spectacular. Iranians are very proud of their cooking — and for good reason. They are also famously generous hosts.

During my time in Iran, I was not naïve about where I was — or the realities of the situation. The secret police camped out a few doors down from my room (very congenial ones, to be fair), were a reminder. The fact that twitter, instagram, and Facebook are forbidden. The sinister sounding “Ministry of Guidance”, for whom we had to refer for approvals, were unfailingly congenial and helpful, however. No intrusive government presence — or attempts to shape our story were felt as we went about our business, unlike any number of other places we’ve shot over the years.

We were not there to do an “expose” of life inside Iran. Nor were we there to do a fair, balanced, comprehensive overview — or anything of the sort. My intention was simply to give a flavor of that weird intangible, what it feels like to walk the streets, sit at the table, look around. To listen. To show you what I saw.

This is not a black and white world — as much as people would like to portray at as such. That’s not an apology for anything. I’m just saying that the brief, narrow slice of Iran we give you on this episode of PARTS UNKNOWN is only one part of a much deeper, multi-hued very old and very complicated story. Like anything as ancient and as beautiful as the Persian Empire, its worth, I think, looking further. It’s also place that can warm your heart one day and break it the next.

At the time of this writing, Washington Post correspondent Jason Rezaian remains imprisoned. The reasons for his arrest have never been explained. In our time with him, on camera and off, he was unfailingly affectionate and generous in his portrayal of Iran — an advocate for — if anything — understanding. It is a mystery and an injustice that any would find fault with him or his wife, Yeganeh (who has only recently been released).


9-year-old Bateer, 47-year-old Hu Wenge and 80-year-old Mei Baojiu sing famous Peking Opera piece The Drunken Beauty together on 2014 Mid-autumn Festival Gala. They sing different lines of the leading role respectively.

This video means a lot to traditional Chinese culture and Peking Opera lovers. See the expression of that grandma audience? That’s how every Chinese feels. Introduction of the three performers according to orders coming on stage: 

1. Bateer(巴特尔), 9 years old, he has great talents and began to sing at 2 years old.  He belongs to the Mei Lanfang (梅兰芳) school of Peking Opera, the most distinguished of all Peking Opera schools..

2. Hu Wenge(胡文阁), the third-generation successor of the Mei school of Peking Opera. For the past 50 years,he has been the only male Dan, one of the key roles in Peking Opera performance, of the Mei school.

3. Mei Baojiu(梅葆玖), master of Peking Opera and leader of the Mei school, he is also the youngest son of maestro Mei Lanfang(梅兰芳). He devotes his life to Peking Opera art and has many famous students. Bando Tamasaburo used to learn 台步 and 水袖 from him. Basically Mei Baojiu is a living cultural heritage of Peking Opera.

The movements, expressions, positions, gestures and singing of them are amazing, especially Mei Baojiu, even people who know nothing about Peking Opera could feel it. The audience can see how Peking Opera art is passing down from one generation to another.

Notes: The Drunken Beauty, aka 贵妃醉酒, tells the story of how imperial consort Yang Guifei waited in the pavilion for the emperor to drink with her, background set in Tang Dynasty. This opera is a standby in the repertoire of actors in the Mei Langfang School of Beijing Opera. At the mere mention Beijing Opera, people will immediately think of Mei Langfang, and his most representative role in The Drunken Beauty.

‘Did you not think Enaila funny, Rand al'Thor?’ Sulin was striding at his side. 'You did not laugh. You never laugh. Sometimes I do not think you have a sense of humor.’

Stopping dead, Rand rounded on them so suddenly that several reached for their veils and looked about for what had startled him. He cleared his throat. 'An irascible old farmer named Hu discovered one morning that his best rooster had flown into a tall tree beside his farm pond and wouldn’t come down, so he went to his neighbor, Wil, and asked for help. The men had never gotten along, but Wil finally agreed, so the two men went to the pond and began climbing the tree, Hu first. They meant to frighten the rooster out, you see, but the bird only kept flying higher, branch by branch. Then, just as Hu and the rooster reached almost the very top of the tree, with Wil right behind, there was a loud crack, the branch under Hu’s feet broke away, and down he went into the pond, splashing water and mud everywhere. Wil scrambled down as fast as he could and reached out to Hu from the bank, but Hu just lay there on his back, sinking deeper into the mud until only his nose stuck out of the water. Another farmer had seen what happened, and he came running and pulled Hu out of the pond. “Why didn’t you take Wil’s hand?” he asked Hu. “You could have drowned.” “Why should I take his had now?” Hu grumped. “I passed him just a moment ago in broad daylight, and he never spoke a word to me”’ He waited expectantly.

The Maidens exchanged blank looks. Finally, Somara said, 'What happened with the pond? Surely the water is the point of this story.’

Throwing up his hands, Rand started for the red-striped pavilion again.


Rand al'Thor, Comedy Reborn–Lord of Chaos