the victory is his
How an American Bureaucrat Became President of Somalia
He was a refugee who embraced U.S.-style democracy. Now's he's trying to bring it home. By TAYLOR GEE

On the morning of February 8, a civil servant from Buffalo, New York—a Somali by birth but an American by choice—walked into a heavily guarded airplane hangar in the battle-scarred capital of his native country where an important vote was about to take place. When he emerged that night, he was president. His surprise victory, which was celebrated with gunfire and camel slaughter in Mogadishu and high-fives at the Buffalo office of the New York Department of Transportation, where he was still technically employed as an equal opportunity compliance officer, was all the more remarkable because it came at the very moment a federal court in the U.S. was deciding the fate of a travel ban that targeted refugees exactly like him.

The story of how Mohamed Abdullahi Mohamed came to be the leader of a country that is synonymous with anarchy and terrorism is both a classic American immigrant’s tale and one about the age-old conflict between basic democratic principles and the forces of political corruption. It begins in 1988, when Mohamed, then a first secretary for the Somali embassy in Washington, D.C., decided it was too dangerous to return home and applied for asylum. Back then, the U.S. was inclined to say yes to such requests.

Over the next 25 years, he earned degrees in history and political science, served on local campaigns and acted as a spokesman for other refugees as an elected official, slowly absorbing the lessons of civil society and the basics of American midmanagement that he knew he wanted one day to bring back to Somalia. He had become, in some ways, an export-ready product. Not soybeans or computer chips but democratic values.

“He’s always had an interest to go back and try to bring peace,” said Joel Giambra, a former county executive in Erie County, New York for whom Mohamed campaigned, then worked for, starting in 1999. “That was always his ambition.”

There are those who say that Mohamed, 54, who ran for president on an anti-corruption platform, bought his way to victory. Those same people say it’s the ironic but inevitable cost of doing business in a still desperately unstable country. But tainted results or not, some say Mohamed, with his decades of experience in American governance, could be the very partner the United States needs to fight international terrorism originating in the Horn of Africa. “What I think Mohamed brings is, hopefully, the technocratic understanding of how U.S. democracy works,” said Muhammad Fraser-Rahim, a programs officer at the U.S. Institute for Peace. “I think that’s a skill set that the two former presidents did not necessarily have.”

In fact, the refugee-turned-president might just be one of the most powerful arguments against a travel ban like President Donald Trump’s, which would have barred Mohamed’s entry to the U.S.—it ultimately diminishes American influence abroad.

Read more here

I’m just going to headcanon that Varric’s shitty attitude towards Anders in DAI is Varric being a compulsive liar on top of protecting one of his dearest friends, if that’s alright.

Varric completely knows where Anders is and what he’s up to. He has his contacts keep an eye out for places where Anders could safely rest and people who would support his cause. Every victory the mages secure over the Templars makes Varric’s chest swell with pride because he always imagines that Anders was there, despite knowing that it’s impossible for him to be at every battle. He spreads rumors of Anders’ good deeds like wildfire and every chance he gets. It pissed him off more than anything when the mages drove Anders out of Redcliffe because do you know how much he sacrificed for you ungrateful nug-humpers?

But if you ask him about Anders, he spews this hate, and makes a note to occasionally bitch about him in front of people. Because Anders doesn’t need word getting out that there’s a reliable source on his whereabouts. And Varric doesn’t need to be kidnapped and interrogated again.

The Loyalist and African American Escape from Yorktown

On the 19th of October 1781, Washington won his most famous victory following the capitulation of the Crown Forces garrisoning Yorktown, Virginia. For Earl Charles Cornwallis and his fellow officers, defeat meant bitter embarrassment and shame. For their British and Hessian soldiers it meant the same, coupled with the potential of spending the rest of the war in the miserable conditions of an American prison camp. For the Loyalists and African Americans, however, the defeat spelled the potential for death or enslavement. 

Cornwallis was well aware of this, and sought immunity for Loyalists as part of the tenth article of capitulation. Washington refused this article, leaving Cornwallis with no choice other than to abandon formal attempts to negotiate his allies to safety. The British, however, did not give up on more clandestine means of escape. Washington permitted that a single British sloop, the Bonetta, be allowed to sail to British-held New York without being searched, for the purpose of carrying dispatches. Numerous African Americans and Loyalists were smuggled onboard. The ruse was almost discovered where a Patriot commander, General Nelson, demanded he be allowed to inspect the sloop for blacks and “enemies of the state.” Nelson’s French allies, however, insisted that he adhere to the articles of capitulation, and let the sloop go. It reached New York safely, though “guards were placed along the shore to prevent runaways from escaping to the ship, although it was feared many were already hidden onboard.” The Governor of Virginia also wrote angrily to Cornwallis, claiming ‘negroes are attempting to escape by getting onboard the Bonetta… [where] they will endeavour to lie concealed from your lordship until the vessel sails.’ It is not known if Cornwallis ever replied. Washington himself was only able to recover two of the slaves who had fled his plantation. 

The British also hit upon another ingenious means of smuggling ex-slaves to freedom. Under the articles, officer’s servants were not to be separated from their masters, and were allowed to travel with them on parole, and subsequent freedom. An eyewitness recorded that the ships bearing the British officers were “packed together, with two servants to each officer.” Another commented on fifty men and women “whose faces were hidden” - Americans who had deserted the Revolutionary cause, and knew they faced the potential of execution if caught. 

Cornwallis was known to have 4000 or 5000 black recruits at Yorktown and Portsmouth. Smallpox killed about sixty percent of those that caught the disease, but in this case some were inoculated against it, so perhaps half the runaways were spared, though wounds and typhus also took a huge toll. Maybe 2000 survived. It is impossible to establish what happened to them. A proportion of the survivors, perhaps half, must have been forced back into slavery.

Han Solo and Luke Skywalker Go to Marriage Counseling

So it had been Han’s stupid idea to take the kids to Hoth for spring break. Yeah, Hoth: that barren, frozen wasteland where, twenty years earlier, Luke had nearly died of hypothermia after nearly being eaten alive by some idiot wampa. To be fair, in spite of everything, the planet did hold a special significance for the Skywalker-Solos. The night Luke nearly died was also the first night he and Han spent together, swaddled in each other’s coats in a flimsy shelter, huddling together for warmth, reeking of tauntaun guts.

Even still, it wasn’t Luke’s first choice for a family outing. Not by a long shot. It had been a long, hard year over at the Jedi training base. He’d spent many a sleepless night strategizing, trying to beat the last scrappy remnants of the Empire into submission. After all these hard-won victories, he was looking forward to spending his two weeks of vacation by a pool on Spira, tanning, drinking Sangria, banging his husband in their hotel room’s shower while Chewie took Hanna and Lulu out for ice cream…

But no. No, Han wanted to go to Hoth, to take the kids on tauntaun rides and hit the slopes on his snowboard and revisit his youth. He’d begged and pleaded for weeks, reminding Luke of That Night In The Tent, telling him how romantic it would be, how it was just the thing to put that spark back in their marriage. Luke finally acquiesced. And now he was paying for it.

“I could be on a beach,” Luke sighed, his teeth chattering. “Drinking a margarita. Right now.”

“Oh, calm down, kid, it’s just a power outage.” Han tossed another log into the fireplace. “Doesn’t this remind you of the last night we spent here, all bundled up in the cold?”

“No,” said Luke, “it reminds me of how badly I want to be on a beach drinking a margarita.”

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-Derek won the fight against Kate, his manipulator, torturer, murderer of his family, and rapist

-Derek won the fight against Peter, the sociopath who killed his sister

-Derek won the fight against Jennifer, another rapist and literal demon

-Derek won the fight against his own self, the side of him that was selfish and power hungry

-Derek won the fight against his life, where he went through a living hell

Derek has won physical fights, but the fights that he won against his own personal monsters will always be his greatest victories.

Like I said, I adopt any character who Stydiots try to belittle for no reason. My newest child is Derek Hale. ❤

Originally posted by trevanterhodes

anonymous asked:

3, 5, 13 for gwash :0 ? - boss

Scars or painful spots
his arms are always really sore and he won’t mention it but if you tug on them too hard or something then he winces a bit but he won’t make you stop

Guilty pleasures
he enjoys cuddling and watching movies very much- he also enjoys playing mario kart and watching your face throughout the entire thing and watching you win and get so happy and victorious he just adores his s/o and spending time with them

What gets them flustered
if you mention how cute he is or anything of the sort his cheeks will turn red and he mixes words up because he’s not used to being called cute



Vladimir Putin ordered attempt to influence US election, declassified report says

  • Russian President Vladimir Putin personally directed an attempt to harm Hillary Clinton’s chances of winning the 2016 U.S. presidential election, according to an intelligence report declassified and made public Friday.
  • The report, “Assessing Russian Activities and Intentions in Recent US Elections,” noted that Moscow has for years attempted to meddle in American politics, but 2016 operations “demonstrated a significant escalation in directness, level of activity and scope of effort.” Read more
  • Afterward, Trump said in a statement that cyberattacks had no impact on the integrity of his victory. Read more

lmao I just had a realization…

Victor’s full name means Victory Victory already

(Nikiforov from Nicephorus/Nikephoros/Nikiforos, Greek, meaning “Bringer of Victory”)

But if he marries Yuuri and combines his name into Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki

It would be Victory Victory-Victory

The ultimate Moon Moon.


Watch President Obama’s speech on Trump’s election victory: full video and transcript

“President Obama spoke about Donald Trump’s election victory at the White House on Wednesday. Here is a transcript of his remarks.” - Vox


I have a collection of these sort of “lmao media” comparisons and showcases of blatant bias and disinformation

Probably the most outrageous thing of President bowl 2016 in my honest imo

And it’s no wonder why everyone was surprised at the upset trump victory, when polling and media reporting were overwhelmingly pro-hillary

Perhaps in the end, the fake polling unintentionally convinced many people who were going to vote democrat that hillary was going to win no matter what. So they stayed home and led to the 6 million less democrat voters that helped secure trump his victory.


My “Oh, Victuuri is canon” moment

So, I was watching YOI episode 6, probably unblinking in my calm, awestruck daze as usual, when there was a scene that hit home what we unanimously felt was going to happen: Victor and Yuuri are canon. But it wasn’t the hand holding/forehead touch scene, nor Yuuri’s internal monologue of “Victor is mine and mine alone” bit, and it wasn’t Victor telling Yuuri that he doesn’t have to picture katsudon and women anymore to seduce him/the crowd. The part that got me thinking that Victuuri is practically canon is rather understated but none the less important.

This. This right here made me audibly gasp at the weight of my revelation. There’s a saying that when you fall in love with another person, their problems and triumphs become your own. Even before the score was known, Victor was overjoyed with Yuuri’s performance. He showed more emotion in someone else’s victory than he did even in his own.

His was more of a reserved, “What else did you expect? Of course I won.” But in this case, Victor was unrestrained and visibly overjoyed and overwhelmingly proud of Yuuri as he pumped his fists in the air, jumped a little, and shouted loud enough to probably echo inside a real skating rink.

This is when I first picked up on, “Victor’s in love with Yuuri.” But then we have this.

Victor is showing even more emotion than Yuuri is over his own victory. He claps his hands, his cheeks flushed, and then he throws his arms around Yuuri because he just can’t stand not hugging him for a second longer. There is pure bliss written in Victor’s face the moment he wraps his arms around Yuuri, and then he’s got the biggest smile on his face as he works to reassure Yuuri that his performance was above and beyond amazing.

Yuuri, I’m sure, is frozen in numb disbelief. That’s my only real thought about why Yuuri didn’t seem to react like I would have expected. Until it was pointed out, I thought at first Yuuri was leaning forward and squinting because he couldn’t believe his own score. After all, last episode we found out that his score of 94.36 was his personal best in SP. And now his score is triple-digits in the SP? It would shock me too. (Of course, I rescinded this thought after I remembered he was near-sighted. Boy, don’t I know that feeling. lol)

Anyway, my point is that following the moment after Yuuri finished his SP and Victor rejoiced with such passion, there was a certain tenderness in the way he behaved toward Yuuri that solidied my, “Yeah, they’re canon.” I just wanted to throw my own two-cents in.

Aaron Sorkin’s Letter To His Daughter After Trump’s Victory

Sorkin Girls,

Well the world changed late last night in a way I couldn’t protect us from. That’s a terrible feeling for a father. I won’t sugarcoat it—this is truly horrible. It’s hardly the first time my candidate didn’t win (in fact it’s the sixth time) but it is the first time that a thoroughly incompetent pig with dangerous ideas, a serious psychiatric disorder, no knowledge of the world and no curiosity to learn has.

And it wasn’t just Donald Trump who won last night—it was his supporters too. The Klan won last night. White nationalists. Sexists, racists and buffoons. Angry young white men who think rap music and Cinco de Mayo are a threat to their way of life (or are the reason for their way of life) have been given cause to celebrate. Men who have no right to call themselves that and who think that women who aspire to more than looking hot are shrill, ugly, and otherwise worthy of our scorn rather than our admiration struck a blow for misogynistic shitheads everywhere. Hate was given hope. Abject dumbness was glamorized as being “the fresh voice of an outsider” who’s going to “shake things up.” (Did anyone bother to ask how? Is he going to re-arrange the chairs in the Roosevelt Room?) For the next four years, the President of the United States, the same office held by Washington and Jefferson, Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt, F.D.R., J.F.K. and Barack Obama, will be held by a man-boy who’ll spend his hours exacting Twitter vengeance against all who criticize him (and those numbers will be legion). We’ve embarrassed ourselves in front of our children and the world.

And the world took no time to react. The Dow futures dropped 7,000 points overnight. Economists are predicting a deep and prolonged recession. Our NATO allies are in a state of legitimate fear. And speaking of fear, Muslim-Americans, Mexican-Americans and African-Americans are shaking in their shoes. And we’d be right to note that many of Donald Trump’s fans are not fans of Jews. On the other hand, there is a party going on at ISIS headquarters. What wouldn’t we give to trade this small fraction of a man for Richard Nixon right now?

So what do we do?

First of all, we remember that we’re not alone. A hundred million people in America and a billion more around the world feel exactly the same way we do.

Second, we get out of bed. The Trumpsters want to see people like us (Jewish, “coastal elites,” educated, socially progressive, Hollywood…) sobbing and wailing and talking about moving to Canada. I won’t give them that and neither will you. Here’s what we’ll do…

…we’ll fucking fight. (Roxy, there’s a time for this kind of language and it’s now.) We’re not powerless and we’re not voiceless. We don’t have majorities in the House or Senate but we do have representatives there. It’s also good to remember that most members of Trump’s own party feel exactly the same way about him that we do. We make sure that the people we sent to Washington—including Kamala Harris—take our strength with them and never take a day off.

We get involved. We do what we can to fight injustice anywhere we see it—whether it’s writing a check or rolling up our sleeves. Our family is fairly insulated from the effects of a Trump presidency so we fight for the families that aren’t. We fight for a woman to keep her right to choose. We fight for the First Amendment and we fight mostly for equality—not for a guarantee of equal outcomes but for equal opportunities. We stand up.

America didn’t stop being America last night and we didn’t stop being Americans and here’s the thing about Americans: Our darkest days have always—always—been followed by our finest hours.

Roxy, I know my predictions have let you down in the past, but personally, I don’t think this guy can make it a year without committing an impeachable crime. If he does manage to be a douche nozzle without breaking the law for four years, we’ll make it through those four years. And three years from now we’ll fight like hell for our candidate and we’ll win and they’ll lose and this time they’ll lose for good. Honey, it’ll be your first vote.

The battle isn’t over, it’s just begun. Grandpa fought in World War II and when he came home this country handed him an opportunity to make a great life for his family. I will not hand his granddaughter a country shaped by hateful and stupid men. Your tears last night woke me up, and I’ll never go to sleep on you again.



Day Forty-Five

-I entered the store to find a child barely old enough to speak demanding coffee from their parents, and I understand.

-I witnessed a man in his eighties with a very long yet well-maintained beard, an all-over print shirt of a grizzly bear, and a hat that read, “Happy! Happy! Happy!” The amount of respect I hold for him cannot be put into words, but I will try: lots.

-A young child sprinted ahead of his family towards my register, Christmas cookie cutters held victoriously above his head, shouting, “CHECK OUT! CHECK OUT!” I see no fault in any part of this.

-An older woman and her thirty-something daughter came through my lane with separate purchases. The elder remarked that the younger was free to pay for her purchase. This seemed to have sparked an idea in her mind, as the mother set off on a lecture directed at me to remind me to take care of my parents. In a moment of panic, not wishing to be on the receiving end of the lecture anymore, I informed her that I was actually an orphan. I am not proud of this, but I knew that it would be worse were I to inform her that I was not serious and that she had just been pranked. She was taken aback, but only missed a beat. Still searching for a target for her lecture, she told me that all good parents should also take care of their children. I began to feel bad for my hypothetical parents, being attacked like this for having done nothing, so I did the only logical thing to shift the blame off of them. I informed the woman that my parents had actually been killed, so that was not really on them. I was in too deep to turn back now. I had to commit to this tortured past that I had stolen from the likes of Bruce Wayne and Harry Potter. The conversation dwindled after that, but I could see the feelings of guilt behind her face, and I could sense the feelings of bewilderment at myself behind mine.

-I heard a woman ask, “Do you need me to make it sticky?” I do not know the context, but I know that no circumstances exist that would warrant someone to say yes to this.

-Looking at a sticker I handed her son, a woman remarked, “This dog has bunny ears,” in the same tone of voice one would say, “This sinful atrocity is a zoological nightmare!”

-I handed a woman an automatically-printed coupon for menstrual pads. She looked it at, then looked me in the eyes, forcefully handed it back to me, and told me, “I will never, ever use that.” I felt that I offended her deeply and found myself apologizing on behalf of the printer.

-I thought that a girl was returning a cart properly. I appreciated this. She then simply barricaded a lane with the cart, blocking all traffic, and fled the scene. I somehow appreciated this even more.

-A man became very upset with me, after finding out that while his son had purchased two bags full of items at the next lane for $40, I had rang up his daughter at mine for one bag and charged her $70. He insisted that it was unfair that I charged more per bag than my coworker. When one of his children said that he did not need to be giving me trouble like this, the man loudly stated that someone had to. My knee-jerk reaction was to inform him that I would be just fine without it and that no one had to bother giving me trouble. This seemed to work, and the reasonable man with the unique outlook on how items are purchased left the store calmly without another word.

-A young girl rhythmically chanted the phrase “chubby puppies” with various inflections, which I thought was great. I then found out that it was actually the name of an entire franchise of toys, which I thought was amazing.

-Upon being asked if she had found everything alright, an elderly woman remarked that she was not planning on buying anything, but then saw her purchase on the shelf and simply had to have it. Before I could respond and offer solidarity in that experience, I saw what she was buying. I have never found myself in a position where I felt an intense need to own four cans of chicken stock, but now I hope I one day do so.

-In the last several weeks, several separate men have used the same leather wallet covered in the logo of The Flash. I do not know what has caused this sudden rise in popularity of the fastest man alive among middle-class white males in southwestern Virginia, but I will investigate. 

-Cat Lady passed me on her way out with an empty cart and informed me that she would be back. She did indeed return a few hours later, but she left once again with nothing in hand. Regardless, I was happy to find she was a woman of her word.

-A white man bought a large stack of Tyler Perry’s Madea films, seeming to be fully unaware that he may not be the target audience for this.

-Two young women came through my lane, corrupting a youth by teaching the young child accompanying them to chant the name Trump. As soon as this infant was not receiving attention anymore, he began to scream and cry until someone looked at him. Clearly this baby had tapped into chaos magick and invoked the spirit of Donald Trump, as his impression was spot-on.

-The man who walks laps through our doors and leaves struck the store again tonight. I hope to one day learn more of his motivations.

-I served a white man with greasy dreadlocks who reeked of weed, stereotypes, and ignorant racism.

-Upon exiting a restroom stall after unloading the trucks, so to speak, I found two men at the urinals, hands against the wall as if being arrested, whizzing into the wind as if being free, passionately discussing the pros and cons of Call of Duty: Black Ops II. I hope to one day have a friend this close.

-As the store closed, a young woman came through my lane, accompanied by a man who seemed to be looking for any excuse to verbally abuse her. He went out to their car, at which point she seemed to nearly break into tears. I gently asked if she was alright, and she told me how he was her former boss and, after giving her a small loan, felt entitled to treat her this way. We bonded over how terrible men can be, how those who treat women this way are compensating for plenty of faults of their own, and how no one deserved to be treated this way. She thanked me at the end of our conversation, nearly ten minutes past close, telling me that I was able to help keep her from crying and helped her recover her night. I hope that she knows that she does not need to put up with this, that he is a horrible man, and that she has every right to swing a brick towards his Nether Realm at any time at her own discretion. 

Dating Negan Would Include...

(Also, before you start reblogging this post and telling me I’m wrong and I’m sexualising the wrong type of character, remember that TWD is FICTIONAL and Negan is FICTIONAL, and whatever I want to make of him as a character is F I C T I O N A L.)

• Him insisting that you get on with the rest of The Saviours, but also being very adamant that you’re his.


• Him giving you rather rude and flirtatious nicknames, embarrassing you.

• Long, lip-biting kisses.

• He lets you practise with Lucille and loves to watch you attack walkers with her.

• Sensual yet rough love-making sessions, anytime, any place.

• You walking around in nothing but his shirt and underwear to tease him.

• Showering together… (Interpret that however you wish ;))

• Him grabbing and kissing you after successful kills or visits to other sanctuaries as his own little victories.

• Him whispering into your ear whilst you’re around people, filthy things he wants to do to you.

• “I fucking love you, you know that?”

• Him holding you and repeating apologies if he ever upsets you.

• Him stealing special items from other groups as treats for you.

• Him throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you, smacking your ass in the process.