thousand armed

  • <p> <b>Someone:</b> Who do you ship Chuuya with? Dazai? Atsushi? Akutagawa? Fyodor? Yosano? Port Mafia dudes? Or maybe the Guild guys? Or maybe the good ADA people?<p/><b>Me:</b> It's more like a what.<p/><b>Someone:</b> ???<p/><b>Me, trying not to cry:</b> Happiness.<p/></p>

Many of the currently employed state-sector workers are the children of the “old workers” [what workers from the Maoist era are referred to in China]; or they have had experience working together with the old workers; or they live in the same working-class neighborhoods. Thus, the currently employed state-sector workers have been influenced by the old workers’ struggles and their political experience. This was illustrated by the Tonghua Steel workers’ anti-privatization struggle in 2009.

Tonghua Steel was a state-owned steel factory in Tonghua, Jilin Province. In 2005 Tonghua Steel was privatized. The state assets, once worth 10 billion yuan, were appraised at only 2 billion yuan. Jianlong, a powerful private company having connections with high-ranking officials in Beijing, actually paid only 800 million yuan and took over the company. After Jianlong’s takeover, twenty-four thousand out of thirty-six thousand workers were laid off. Wages for the workers on “dangerous tasks” (with high rates of work-related injuries) were reduced by two-thirds. The managers could impose various arbitrary penalties and punishments on the workers.

In 2007 the Tonghua Steel workers started to protest. During the protests, a Maoist-era worker, “Master Wu,” emerged as the leader. Wu made it clear to the workers that the real issue was not about any particular problem, but about “the political line of privatization.”

July 2009 found the workers on a general strike. When the Jianlong general manager threatened to fire all workers, the enraged workers beat the manger to death. Although the provincial governor and thousands of armed police were at the scene, no one dared to intervene. After the beating, Jilin Province was forced to cancel the privatization plan.

The Tonghua Steel workers’ victory was a huge inspiration for workers in many parts of China. Workers in several other steel factories also protested and forced the local governments to cancel privatization plans. Worker-activists in other provinces saw the Tonghua victory as their own and regretted that “too few capitalists have been killed.“

Minqi Li, “The Rise of the Working Class and the Future of the Chinese Revolution” (2011)

Drunken Bolsheviks and the Greatest Hangover in History,

On October 25th, 1917 Bolshevik soldiers and sailors stormed the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, former home of the Russian Czars.  Among the wealth and grandeur of the palace, the revolutionaries stumbled upon perhaps the greatest treasure of the Romanov Dynasty; Nicholas II’s personal wine cellar, which housed the largest collection of fine wines, liquors, and cordials in the world.

Having thousands of heavily armed men and civilians in the proximity of the largest cache of booze on the planet was certainly a big problem for Bolshevik officers and politicians.  Already Bolshevik soldiers were carting out kegs and bottles, beginning a Bolshevik boozing spree that would quickly get out of hand.  At first Bolshevik leaders considered blasting the cellars with high explosives, however it was feared that this would severely damage the palace.  Finally Bolshevik leaders ordered the cellars be barricaded and placed under heavy guard while the booze was disposed of.  At first the booze was hauled out in crates to be dumped, however convoys tasked with this duty were ambushed by drunken soldiers and civilians. Finally it was decided to simply pour the booze down the drain.  This plan failed when people by the thousands gathered around the palace drains with buckets.

Finally, the large drunken Bolshevik mob stormed the Winter Palace a second time, easily overwhelming the guards and overrunning the cellar.  Immediately, St. Petersburg erupted into an orgy of drunken rioting and looting.  Boozed up Bolsheviks began fighting or having sex in streets. Rape and murder was common, so were brawls and shootouts among heavily armed soldiers. Many people were killed by stray bullets as soldiers fired their weapons into the air in celebration.  Martial law was declared and a Bolshevik army was dispatched to gain control over this situation.  However, this did little as many of the oncoming soldiers joined in on the fun. After about a month of alcohol induced chaos, the booze ran out, and order was restored in St. Petersburg.  The resulting hangover must have been terrible.

March 9, 1917 - Serbian Nationalist Rebellion being Brutally Put Down

Pictured - Austro-Hungarian troops shoot captured Serbian Chetniks.

As revolution and rebellion fomented everywhere in Europe, repression behind the lines grew as well. In late February 1917, Serbian nationalist guerrilas, known as the Chetniks, rose up against the harsh Central Powers occupation. Austrian and Bulgarian troops routinely brutalized Serbs, and they conscripted them into their armies as well.

Led by Serbian regular officers left behind after the 1915 retreat, hundreds of rebels took up arms. The Austro-Hungarian and Bulgarian response was swift and merciless; thousands of Serbians, both armed and civilians, were executed or tortured. By March 15, the rebellion had been put down, and the Central Powers formed special squads to scour the hills and hunt down remaining rebel leaders.

beingatoaster  asked:

The phrase "Eyes On The Sky" is for some reason suggesting itself?

………………….guys I need a fic about Chuck and Dutch and Tennie hanging out on the Cablers’ Settlement, using their telescope to pick out patterns in the lights in the dome.  Making “star charts” and naming constellations and coming up with massive, sweeping mythologies about the heroes and monsters they shapes represent (because Dutch is amazing at designing monsters, and Chuck loves kings and knights and noble warriors, and Tennie has a spark, a catching point, she always knows how to make their brief, made-up struggles mean something).

Sometimes they come from a rough fight, and every new pattern they look at becomes a fearsome king with white robes and red eyes and armies of flying gargoyles or a poisonous plague or a gluttonous, thousand-armed monster or, or, or–

sometimes they leave the telescope alone for a while, and Tennie makes them hot drinks (because she’s the only one who ever learned to cook, and the boys are so startled and pleased by new tastes even after being down in Motorcity for more than a year).  And they don’t think about it, and they watch the stars.

Now a lot of strange stories have come out of Vietnam,
But sure none as bizarre as the tale of old Charlie Papasan.
It was way back in sixty-eight, not long after Tet,
Near some lush rice paddies, that me and Charlie met.
They sent us out to recon a hill called three-O-four,
But little did we suspect just what lay in store.
You see, that hill was empty except for one dead tree,
But hunkered down behind it was one toothless old VC.
Attired in black pajamas, not a hair left on his head,
This old Charlie Papasan already looked half dead.
He had a single shot rifle, it was dated nineteen and ten.
He’d fought the French and then the Japs and then the French again.
I guess old Charlie`d `bout had enough, having seen a lot in his days,
And like most old goats, he was kinda set in his ways.
So on that hill he sat above his paddy field.
Surrounded by our unit, he still refused to yield.
So we called him on the bullhorn: yelled, “Papasan, come on down,
We don`t want to hurt you, so don`t be screwin’ around.”
Then out of the barrel of his rifle, came old Papasan’s reply,
And we all sucked some mud as he let his bullets fly.
He answered us with a shot, the first one of the day,
But it was not to be the last, as we scrambled out of the way.
Now this went on for hours as we kept our faces to the ground.
We couldn’t even return fire as Papasan shot his rounds.
Our squad leader crawled to the phone and asked what he should do:
He reported we were under fire, had bit off more than we could chew.
HQ called back on the horn, said the word was “No Abort”
Our gung-ho looey said, “Can Do”, and called for air support.
So they sent in the flyboys to napalm that old VC
And they dropped tons of firecrackers targeting that old tree.
We waited for the smoke to clear and when it finally did,
There was old Charlie Papasan; still behind that stump he hid.
So they called in Special Forces, the Rangers, and Berets,
But old Charlie Papasan kept them pinned down for days.
Then they tried offshore bombardment from every ship in the fleet
But all their shells missed Papasan by at least a hundred feet.
Then they sent for gunships and they came a spittin’ flame
But Papasan behind his tree just took more careful aim.
We watched in stunned disbelief as each Huey bit the dust
Brought down by old Papasan and his rifle lined with rust.
Finally our old Sarge just couldn’t take no more.
I saw him crawl off through the brush, and wondered what the hell for.
Then in a minute he was back and I knew where he’d had to go.
‘Cause here came Sarge a-leading Papasan’s water buffalo.
Sarge had out his .45 pointed at the dumb critter’s head.
He yelled, “Papasan, come on down, or your goddamn cow is dead!”
Now Sarge he`d done two tours; he was wise to the ways of the bush.
He knew Papasan would hurt no cow, if shove ever came to push.
So a thousand armed Americans encircling that hill and tree
All held their breath as one and sat waiting there to see.
Finally that ancient rifle came rolling down that hill.
Hands high, out came Papasan yelling, “NO KILL, NO KILL!”
Well, what happened to old Papasan, I guess you’d like to know,
Did we shoot the tough old bastard or did we let him go.
Well, we all looked at Sarge and this is what he`d done:
He traded Charlie that buffalo for that rusted out old gun.
So that old man just walked away with his water buffalo
Back to his lush rice paddies where you reap just what you sow.
And as I turned to look at Sarge I saw a sad look on his face.
He looked down at that rifle and said, “I’ll never understand this place.
—  “The Ballad of Charlie Papasan,” author unknown.
So, I might have made a connection today in my Religion class, guys.

You know vajras? These things?

Not only are they a symbol of power and a “weapon,” they also symbolize compassion in Buddhism.

And… Well…

Asura’s holding one of those in his hand… Let’s just say things make a lot more sense to me now. I mean, I instantly got feelings once I learned this today.

He’s freaking compassionate! Compassionate about his daughter! Compassionate about all the beings on earth! Compassionate for the greater good, to get rid of the gods who think any life is below theirs!

And you want to know something else?

There is a thousand-armed deity in Buddhism referred to as Avalokiteshvara, or just Guanyin in some places. They’re supposed to be a representation of Perfect Compassion. 

And, well, there’s this part that comes up later in the game.

Not only is Asura compassionate, he may very well have Perfect Compassion. And, who knows! He may be a reincarnation of this deity of “Perfect Compassion”!

Like, holy crap guys. It makes a lot of sense. The game is deeply based on Hinduism/Buddhism/Asian religions, after all.

Paris newspaper report on the Storming of the Bastille

First, the people tried to enter this fortress by the Rue St.-Antoine, this fortress, which no one has ever penetrated against the wishes of this frightful despotism and where the monster still resided. The treacherous governor had put out a flag of peace. So a confident advance was made; a detachment of French Guards, with perhaps five to six thousand armed bourgeois, penetrated the Bastille’s outer courtyards, but as soon as some six hundred persons had passed over the first drawbridge, the bridge was raised and artillery fire mowed down several French Guards and some soldiers; the cannon fired on the town, and the people took fright; a large number of individuals were killed or wounded; but then they rallied and took shelter from the fire… meanwhile, they tried to locate some cannon; they attacked from the water’s edge through the gardens of the arsenal, and from there made an orderly siege; they advanced from various directions, beneath a ceaseless round of fire.

It was a terrible scene…. The fighting grew steadily more intense; the citizens had become hardened to the fire, from all directions they clambered onto the roofs or broke into the rooms; as soon as an enemy appeared among the turrets on the tower, he was fixed in the sights of a hundred guns and mown down in an instant; meanwhile cannon fire was hurriedly directed against the second drawbridge, which it pierced, breaking the chains; in vain did the cannon on the tower reply, for most people were sheltered from it; the fury was at its height; people bravely faced death and every danger; women, in their eagerness, helped us to the utmost; even the children, after the discharge of fire from the fortress, ran here and there picking up the bullets and shot; [and so the Bastille fell and the governor, De Launey, was captured]…. Serene and blessed liberty, for the first time, has at last been introduced into this abode of horrors, this frightful refuge of monstrous despotism and its crimes.

Meanwhile, they get ready to march; they leave amidst an enormous crowd; the applause, the outbursts of joy, the insults, the oaths hurled at the treacherous prisoners of war; everything is confused; cries of vengeance and of pleasure issue from every heart; the conquerors, glorious and covered in honour, carry their arms and the spoils of the conquered, the flags of victory, the militia mingling with the soldiers of the fatherland, the victory laurels offered them from every side, all this created a frightening and splendid spectacle. On arriving at the square, the people, anxious to avenge themselves, allowed neither De Launey nor the other officers to reach the place of trial; they seized them from the hands of their conquerors, and trampled them underfoot one after the other. De Launey was struck by a thousand blows, his head was cut off and hoisted on the end of a pike with blood streaming down all sides…. This glorious day must amaze our enemies, and finally usher in for us the triumph of justice and liberty. In the evening, there were celebrations.

Enkoji (圓光寺, Enkōji) is a temple of the Rinzai Zen Sect, situated in northern Kyoto close to the Shugakuin Imperial Villa. It is famous for its autumn colors which are usually best in late November. Enkoji was founded in 1601 by Tokugawa Ieyasu, the shogun who brought about the Edo Period (1603-1867). The temple also served as a school that was open to the common public. Enkoji’s principal object of worship is a statue of the thousand-armed Kannon Bodhisattva.


Blanc moved through the streets of the seedy town of Windpath, her wandering journey across Anima bringing her her closest to Mistral yet. She even felt like, if she took a deep breath, she could smell the city in the distance. However, what caught her attention wasn’t her imagined smell of Mistral, or even the people moving around her through the streets, but a strong, strange, yet oddly alluring smell somewhere in the city. She sniffed a few times, just trying to get a beat on it, before realizing it must be an Alpha’s scent. The young Omega had smelled Alpha’s before, but nothing had ever stood out to her. Her legs were moving before she knew it, carrying her through the streets, towards the source of the smell.

When Mantle had told him he would be leading troop movements in Mistral, operating with the kingdom’s local forces, Ash had forseen glorious marches, great barracades, men by the thousands armed with hybrid technology crushing all in their way.

Instead; he got a bunch of Mistrali volunteers, mostly non-Huntsmen, who had barely held a sword, let alone a Mantle MA5D assault rifle. They were more a danger to themselves than to the enemy…

His actual Mantle troops were better, but there just weren’t enough of them…
Oum, what a MESS.

The Alpha rubbed his eyes, tired, feeling his paitence slowly chipping away. Idiots, all of them…
And worse; the few Omegas he could smell were weak. Spineless. 
All he had in terms of a unit was his Beta Hester. She was good, but a Beta needed an Omega or two to keep them happy…
He stretched, looking around. 



Funmilayo Ransome Kuti, (25 October 1900 - 13 April 1978) was a teacher, political campaigner, women’s rights activist and traditional aristocrat.
Francis Abigail Olufunmilayo Thomas was born on 25 October 1900, in Abeokuta. Her father was a son of a returned slave from Sierra Leone, who traced his ancestral history back to Abeokuta in what is today Ogun State, Nigeria.He became a member of the Anglican Faith, and soon returned to the homeland of his fellow Egbas, Abeokuta.
Fumilayo Ransome-Kuti’s political activism led to her being described as the doyen of female rights in Nigeria, as well as to her being regarded as “The Mother of Africa”. She was a very powerful force advocating for the Nigerian woman’s right to vote, she was described in 1947, by the West African Pilot as the “Lioness of Lisabi” for her leadership of the women of the Egba clan that she belonged to on a campaign against their arbitrary taxation. That struggle led to the abdication of the Egba high king Oba Ademola II in 1949.
Fumilayo Ransome Kuti was the mother of the activists the father of afrobeat and political activist Fela Anikulapo Kuti , Beko Ransome-Kuti, a doctor, and Professor Olikoye Ransome-Kuti, a doctor and a former health minister of Nigeria. She was also grandmother to musicians Seun Kuti and Femi Kuti.

In old age her activism was overshadowed by that of her three sons, who provided effective opposition to various Nigerian military juntas. In 1978 Funmilayo was thrown from a third-floor window of her son Fela’s compound, a commune known as the Kalakuta Republic, when it was stormed by one thousand armed military personnel. She lapsed into a coma in February of that year, and died on 13 April 1978, as a result of her injuries.

basicallyjazzhands  asked:

Your anger when someone suggests that hw doesn't care always makes me happy bc it also frustrates me when people do that. also you posted earlier that there was no Peridots before the war and I want to know why you think that? Because I thought that Peridot calling herself an "era 2 Peridot" indicated that there were/are era 1 Peridots.

(I’m gonna split this ask into two parts, and talk about Peridot in a different post, because I kinda got… on a roll with that first topic, ha ha)

I guess it just bugs me because… Hey, remember when people kept trying to say how Jasper had no redeeming qualities and I should give up on her getting a redemption because she’s an Objectively Terrible Person with no redeeming qualities or reason to feel bad for her?

Remember how Earthlings states she’s a child soldier born halfway through the war dealing with unhealthy grieving and some seriously messed up interpersonal skills related to the fact that she thinks of herself as unlovable and unworthy of being helped, and thinks that she deserves to suffer?

Remember how she was horrified by the Crystal Gems taking Peridot’s enhancers away, right in the face of her whole “The Weak do not deserve to live” and stated that this was an infringement on Peridot’s dignity, which if she really exclusively and always believed her spiel about people deserving to suffer, she wouldn’t care about?

Everyone was convinced Peridot would be terrible and not redeemed, Catch And Release happened. Everyone believed the same thing about Jasper, Earthlings happened. 

Keep reading

Thousand-armed Avalokitesvara24K Gold Fine Thangka of Thousand-armed Avalokitesvara Avalokitesvara (Chenrezig) is an important deity in Tibetan Buddhism, and is regarded in the Vajrayana teachings as a Buddha. In the Mahayana teachings he is in general regarded as a high-level Bodhisattva. The Dalai Lama is considered by the Gelugpa school and many other Tibetan Buddhists to be the primary earthly manifestation of Chenrezig. The Karmapa is considered by the Karma Kagyu school to be Chenrezig’s primary manifestation. It is said that Padmasambhava prophesied that Avalokite�vara will manifest himself in the Tulku lineages of the Dalai Lamas and the Karmapas. Another Tibetan source explains that Buddha Amithaba gave to one of his two main disciples, Avalokite�vara, the task to take upon himself the burden of caring for Tibet. That is why he has manifested himself not only as spiritual teachers in Tibet but also in the form of kings (like Trisong Detsen) or ministers. Other manifestations popular in Tibet include Sahasra-bhuja (a form with a thousand arms) and Ekadasamukha (a form with eleven faces). Mantra Om Mani Padme Hum Tibetan Buddhism relates Chenrezig to the six-syllable mantra Om Mani Padme Hum. Thus, Chenrezig is also called Shadakshari (“Lord of the Six Syllables”). The connection between this famous mantra and Avalokitesvara already occurs in the Karandavyuha Sutra (probably late fourth or early fifth century), one of the first Buddhist works to have reached Tibet (before the end of the 5th century).

151107 SWJ Seek of Treasure Fanmeet

During the gesture guessing game, Key and Onew were up and faced each other, preparing to start, but Key did a weird pose. For some reason, the members joined in and did a weird pose battle, lining up like a multi-armed machine (thousand-armed cannon) and moving in sync perfectly.
Cr: aionee_51; tr: keihissi
Vid: xox_09

Even as Jews endured waves of pogroms in the last decades of the Russian Empire, Armenians suffered even more violent pogroms under the Ottoman Empire. Identified through their language, culture, and religious heritage from an independent Christian church dating back to A.D. 303, Armenians had developed thriving communities across much of Western Asia and Eastern Europe in Persia, Russia, and the Ottoman Empire. Armenians in the Ottoman Empire lived in Constantinople and Smyrna, but they were concentrated in eastern Turkey, in cities and towns including Erzerum, Diyarbekir, and Van, where their neighbors were Turks and Kurds.

Ottoman loss of territory in the west, in Greece, and in Bulgaria paradoxically created both opportunity and danger for Armenians living in the empire’s capital, Constantinople, and in its east. New laws pressed on the Ottomans by the European powers established greater equality between Ottoman subjects of different religions, but Ottoman defeats also heightened the government’s antagonism toward Christian minorities living in the empire, most notably Armenians. At the same time Armenian revolutionary parties, led chiefly by Armenians abroad, hoped to bring about European intervention by mounting insurrection against Ottoman rule. There were two main parties: the Hunchakists and the Dashnaks.

Beginning in the autumn of 1895, an explosion of violence shook the Ottoman Empire’s Armenian subjects. The immediate spark lay in events in Constantinople. On September 30, 1895, some two thousand to four thousand Armenians marched toward the sultan’s government in the Ottoman capital to present a petition protesting attacks during the preceding year on Armenian villages in the highland region of Sassoun. The protesters also raised demands that could easily be interpreted as infringing on Ottoman sovereignty: they demanded reorganization of the Armenian eastern provinces along “homogenous ethnographical divisions,” and called for a new post of governor general to be filled by a European. Security at the Ottoman court, however, prevented delivery of the petition, and after a brief altercation between protesters and gendarmes, the rally ended in a riot. Mobs then attacked Armenians in the streets of Constantinople. As the British ambassador Philip Currie reported, based on information he received from a “trustworthy eye-witness,” Softas (Muslim students of theology) and Turks “supplied with clubs, set on the Armenians in the streets and beat many of them to death under the very eyes of the police.”

A wave of violence followed that decimated Armenians as massacres struck town after town in eastern Anatolia. British Vice Consul Telford Waugh at Diyarbekir recalled that the Armenians “talked of massacre, much as in England we discuss the weather.” At Trebizond on the Black Sea coast, for example, tension rose in early October amid reports of assassination attempts against Turkish officials. On October 4 thousands of armed Muslims swept through the streets as Christians took refuge. A full-scale massacre of Armenians, chiefly of men, followed on October 8. The British vice consul at Trebizond reported that “hundreds of armed Turks filled the streets, rushing madly about, and slaughtering every Armenian they could meet.” He estimated that five hundred were killed before the massacre ended.

Many more massacres took place at towns and villages in eastern Anatolia. Mobs repeatedly looted and burned houses and shops, and murdered Armenians. Much as in the pogroms against Jews, Armenians fought back. At Erzerum, the scene of a slaughter on October 30, self-defense forces, probably Hunchakists, fired on Turkish soldiers. But the violence ended only after the city’s bazaar had been destroyed. In all, amore than a thousand shops were ruined. British Acting Consul Henry Cumberbatch saw 309 bodies buried in a single grave after the massacre. Similar attacks in hundreds if not thousands of villages throughout the countryside extended to other Christian minorities, including Syrians, Chaldeans, and Jacobites. From Erzerum, Cumberbatch reported that Kurds and Muslim villagers raided “all the Armenian villages, with very few exceptions” throughout several eastern districts.

The number of massacres declined after November, but the violence did not end. During the massacre at Urfa near Syria on December 28-29, a cathedral crowded with Armenians seeking shelter was burned. An account by an American missionary reported that soldiers broke into the cathedral, and “then entering, they began a butchery, which became a great holocaust…. For two days the air of the city was unendurable." 

The worst violence of 1896 occurred in June in the city of Van, near Turkey’s eastern border. Following a clash involving Turkish gendarmes and soldiers and a group whose identity was never established, mobs of Muslim civilians and Turkish forces attacked Armenians. Defenders, organized by the Armenian political parties, fought off a military assault for days before being slaughtered en route out of the country, despite having received a promise of safe passage. 

In sum, the massacres of Armenians amounted to massive collective punishment for the activities of Armenian political parties. Responding to British complaints about harsh treatment of Armenians in 1894, Sultan Abdul Hamid II had already established that he personally supported a policy of sweeping reprisals for Armenian rebellion. It is difficult to trace the transmission of a policy of massacre from central authorities to the local level, but reports of massacres indicated that these attacks against Armenians were coordinated. On several occasions killing began with a signal from a bugle or gun. According to a report from Marsovan, a town south of the Black Sea, the massacre of Armenians began on November 15, 1895, after Muslims left mosques, and "at the same, time, just as if a signal had been given, the villagers swarmed into the town from the surrounding country.” As the American missionary George E. White (who stayed in Turkey long enough to witness the genocide of 1915) later recalled, “the storm burst with the noon call to prayer from the minarets." 

The response of ordinary Muslims varied. Some took part in violence and theft. Indeed, the attacks may have been organized by gender: men and women sometimes carried out different tasks. The British diplomat Robert Graves, for example, learned from his temporary replacement as consul at Erzerum, Henry Cumberbatch, that "hundreds of Turkish women flocked into town carrying sacks in which to remove the loot of the Armenian quarter.” Massacres then targeted Armenian men, though some Armenians were rescued by their Muslim neighbors. 

Despite the violent attacks of the 1890s, the Armenians of the Ottoman Empire survived as an important group at the end of the nineteenth century. In that sense they were not yet cleansed from the empire, though estimates of those killed ranged from a few tens of thousands to upward of 100,000. Still, Armenians now found themselves in an extremely precarious position. The Ottoman Armenians had become an ethnic minority who faced special risk. Even the memory of earlier massacres did not prepare them for what would befall them some twenty years later.

—  Benjamin Lieberman, Terrible Fate: Ethnic Cleansing in the Making of Modern Europe